


A City Born Under the Bad Sun

by mia6363



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia6363/pseuds/mia6363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how Achievement City rose from a ratty gathering of tents and vagabonds into the strange offbeat metropolis, and the people who inhabit it. Known as The CowboyAU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wolf and the Firebird

The sun was punishing the Texas earth, scorching the dirt until the muddy roads cracked. Lindsay struggled to wipe sweat from her brow and clutch her books, parchment, and ink bottles to her chest. At this rate she was going to perspire through her favorite school dress. She had to stop, leaning up against the fence that surrounded Rockwell farms. 

She’d just caught her breath when a terrifying bellow made her eyes widen. 

A wild bull broke through the fence just a few feet away, its eyes wild and foam spewing from its mouth. Its horns were massive and Lindsay had never felt so small in her eight years of life. The beast’s hooves dug into the dirt and Lindsay was sure she was going to die gored on its horns.

A looped rope sailed through the air. It fell over the beast’s horns and neck—and then it tightened. Lindsay jerked her head to see a boy on a horse, his eyes hard as he yanked the rope, bringing the bull to the ground. The boy slid off his horse, his stance wide and strong as the bull thrashed. 

“Lay still.” His voice was coarse, like rubbing firewood the wrong way. His arm was holding the beast’s head against the dirt. “I said _be still_.” 

The bull was having none of it, wailing and foam pouring from its mouth. The boy’s expression was pained but his grip never relented. A sharp whistle made them both look up to see Jonathan Rockwell, the farmer. His expression was grim, shotgun in his hand.

“Rabid?” The boy nodded, his hair falling in his face. “Give it a punch, then get the girl out of the way.”

The boy obeyed, his fist hitting the animal. It slackened, for a moment, mostly stunned, and the boy ran to Lindsay. He was taller, gangly, and his grip was so tight it hurt. He pulled her against his chest and Lindsay was about to yank away—when a loud shot rang out—and the bull went limp.

Despite the heat, Lindsay felt cold as the boy’s grip on her loosened. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Lindsay Tuggey.” 

“She lives about a mile down.” John’s voice seemed so far away. “Take her home, boy. Then come back, we’ll need to fix the fence.” 

The boy nodded curtly.

“Yessir.” 

Lindsay let herself be steered away, the boy keeping his body in the way so she couldn’t see the dead bull on the ground, flies already descending upon it. They walked a ways before it hit her—and she started crying.

Lindsay wasn’t a loud crier, never had been. Her mom said she was so quiet when she was born she was scared that Lindsay hadn’t made it, the midwife had never seen a baby be so quiet. She let the tears roll, wiping them without making a fuss. Most people didn’t know she was crying, but the boy noticed right away. 

He stopped, crouching so he was eye-level with her. 

He had honey-brown hair and periwinkle eyes; so light they were like ice. He didn’t coddle her like others would, he didn’t tell her everything would be all right. He just looked at her before offering a handkerchief. She took it, evening out her breathing until her face was dry. 

“Thank you.”

The boy took the cloth back, stuffing it into his pocket and standing. 

“You’re welcome.”

He walked her to her porch and left with a brief nod and a quiet, “Take care now.” Lindsay’s mother emerged from inside, fanning herself from the heat. 

“Who was that boy, Lindsay?”

Lindsay watched the boy’s slender form walk along the dirt, the heat making his silhouette shimmery. 

“I don’t know. I think he’s working for Farmer Rockwell.” 

Even at a young age, Lindsay had never felt a… pull toward someone quite as hard as she felt toward that boy. It made her lie awake, her hand on her stomach, until she just couldn’t take it anymore. 

In the middle of the night, Lindsay got out of bed, only in her nightgown—grabbed a sack and filled it with a loaf of bread and cheese. She was careful on the porch, avoiding all the squeaky boards and soon took off down the dirt road, the moonlight guiding her. 

The Rockwell farm was big, it seemed huge but Lindsay had played there often during the winter. She knew where the barracks were for his handymen he’d hire. Lindsay ducked under the fence and found the small cottage meant for the help. She knocked on the glass.

“Hello? Boy, are you there?” 

Lindsay wished she’d asked his name. A cold wind blew across the plains and she shivered, and that’s when the door to the cottage was thrown open. The boy stared down at her, his hair mussed and eyes bleary. His shirt was open and he was very skinny. He rubbed his eyes roughly.

“What are you doin’ here? You should be home, asleep.” 

His voice was all scratchy. Lindsay sucked in a deep breath, sticking her chin out. 

“I know Mister Rockwell doesn’t feed his help enough. And skinny boys don’t grow up to be strong men.” She thrust out the sack. “Here.” 

He invited her in, yawning as he opened the bag. He paused as Lindsay peered around the small cottage. The only chair in the room was very uncomfortable and wobbled, but Lindsay sat on it anyway. The boy sat on what… apparently passed as a mattress but looked like a lumpy sheet. 

He took a bite of the bread and broke off a piece of cheese, moaning. Lindsay preened because she’d made that bread herself, with her mother watching of course, and she knew it tasted darn good. 

“You’re plucky for a six-year-old.”

Lindsay bristled, crossing her arms at the boy’s smirk. 

“Excuse you, I’m eight and a _half_.” The boy choked a little before laughing, his head thrown back. Lindsay grinned as the boy got a hold of himself, taking another bite of the bread. “What’s your name?”

The boy fumbled with the bread, putting it down and wiping his hands off on his pants. 

“Oh gee, where are my manners.” He stood, holding his hand out. “I’m Ryan Haywood.” 

His hand was rough compared to her soft palms. They shook hands, to signify them properly meeting and respect, but it was so much more in that moment. 

Lindsay’s mother said that revelations of the spiritual nature were only supposed to happen in church. Lindsay couldn’t agree, because she was having a revelation right there in that small cottage in the dead of night. 

Her and Ryan were connected on a deep, untouchable level. Lindsay imagined that when God was making all of his creations, her and Ryan shared a table when the Lord was putting them together. They lay next to each other, being made whole before they were born unto the earth.

::::

Ryan was a drifter—as much as Lindsay could understand. He did a lot of odd jobs, in his words, around the country. That first summer she punched him in the shoulder when he stopped by before leaving. Her eyes welled with tears and she shoved him. 

“You better have done a good job so you can come back next summer!” 

Ryan promised he did and would return. And he followed through on his promise year after year. 

Lindsay was twelve and still had her baby fat. She was torn between wanting to be a mature, beautiful woman, and being a daring rogue like Ryan. The sun hung low in the Texas sky, staining it pink as Lindsay took a deep breath, putting her hand on Ryan’s horse. 

“The key is to not be scared.” Ryan’s voice had gotten a lot deeper as years passed on. His hands were on Lindsay’s hips. “Are you ready?” 

Lindsay nodded. 

“Yes.”

Ryan lifted her up and she was _up on the horse_. Lindsay’s breath froze in her lungs and she sat sideways on the saddle. Ryan smirked as Lindsay clutched at the front of the saddle, struggling to sit sideways and keep her balance.

“Lindsay Tuggey, what _are_ you doing?” 

Lindsay stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Tryin’ to sit on your dumb horse.” 

“Hey!” Ryan smacked her knee. “Don’t talk about Diego that way.” He held the reins, keeping Diego still. “You’re sitting all wrong. You got to put one leg on each side of the horse.” 

“That’s indecent.” Lindsay flushed, her face hot as she struggled to put her leg on the other side of the horse. “Ladies don’t ride like that.” 

“Yeah, well ladies who don’t feel like goin’ far on a horse can keep riding their stupid way. If you get on a horse you got to be ready to go somewhere. You got breeches on under your dress don’t you?” 

Lindsay attempted to kick Ryan up his rude head, but he dodged it easily.

“Of _course_ I do.” 

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Ryan handed her the reins. “Keep your ankles down. Don’t be scared, the horse will be able to tell. You need to take control, show it you’re the boss.” 

Lindsay nodded, breathing steady.

“I’m the boss, Diego.” 

She flicked the reins and her stomach rolled as the horse took a few steps. She felt the rush, the wind in her hair and Ryan must have seen her sly grin because he started to say, “Lindsay, wait—“ but Lindsay dug her heels in and whooped. 

“Let’s go, Diego!” 

Diego let out a whinny and took off. He galloped across the grassy plains and Lindsay was euphoric. This is what birds must have felt like when they took their first flight—this is what some people don’t ever feel—what _ladies_ don’t feel since they don’t sit on horses the right way. 

Ryan chased after her, his hat flying off behind him. Lindsay eventually slowed at the river that passed through her yard and into the Rockwell farm. Diego took a long drink while Ryan threw his head back, out of breath.

“Don’t—don’t do that again. It thought I was gonna faint.” 

Ryan helped Lindsay get down from Diego before letting them both fall back onto the grassy hill. Lindsay rolled off him; throwing her arms out against the grass and watching the pink clouds pass overhead. 

“That was _wicked_.” 

Ryan whistled, puffing his chest out.

“Yeah, well that’s not all it takes to ride a horse, firebird.” 

Ryan sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. Lindsay knew that soon she’d have to hurry home so her mother wouldn’t worry, and Ryan would have to get as much rest as he could before another day of hard work. That summer was all about horses, until Ryan told her that Lindsay had surpassed some of the wranglers he worked with in other states. 

On the night that he left, Ryan had dinner at Lindsay’s house. He’d cleaned up, which Lindsay made fun of him for—his face scrubbed pink and his hair slicked back. Her parents were wary, thinking that Ryan was interested in Lindsay in a _marriage_ way. 

It was laughable, because their bond was deeper than any flimsy marriage. Ryan ate graciously and was all “thank you, ma’am,” and “no, sir.” 

Lindsay stood out on the porch under the moon and they no longer had tear-filled goodbyes. She knew he was coming back. She tilted her chin up with a grin. 

“When I get a horse, I’m going to name it Phoenix.” 

Ryan smiled. 

“Fitting for a firebird.” 

He tipped his hat and mounted Diego. With a click of his tongue, he had that horse riding off into the dark.

::::

“Come on, you can hit harder than that.” Ryan spit into the dirt. “You’re never going to defend yourself with a punch like that.” 

Lindsay was fifteen when she clenched her fists and mimicked the punch Ryan showed against his own stomach. He stumbled back, eyes wide and Lindsay’s hands immediately flew to her mouth.

“Oh no, oh no—did I hurt you, Ryan?” He wheezed, holding up his hand and Lindsay bit her lip. “Ryan?”

“That was… good.” Ryan smiled. “That’s good, Lindsay. That’s certainly one way to take a man’s breath away.” 

Lindsay snorted, before looking down at her bruised knuckles. 

“Ouch.” She rubbed her hand. “That hurt a lot.”

Ryan pulled up his shirt, letting Lindsay see a darkening bruise. 

“In order to hurt people, you’ve got to be prepared to be hurt yourself.” Ryan swallowed, his blue eyes steely. “The world isn’t forgiving, Lindsay. If you ever need to hurt someone, don’t hesitate; don’t ask if they’re all right. Don’t waste a second.”

There were times when Lindsay was reminded that Ryan had seen more than her, and not just because he was several years older. They were linked old souls, but wherever Ryan went when he wasn’t in Texas—Lindsay had a feeling it was not as whimsical. He’d get haunted looks in the dark, when he thought Lindsay wasn’t looking. 

Lindsay knew vaguely that a vagabond’s life wasn’t glamorous like the girls at school seemed to think. It wasn’t all sunsets and open fields. Ryan had a lot of scars on his wrists and hands, and not just the typical rope burn. 

Some nights, when he’d go real quiet as they rode horses through the forest, Lindsay would wait for him to talk first. 

It led to Lindsay learning how to punch, elbow, and kick someone fast and hard. They kept fighting until Ryan had a busted lip. He wiped away the blood with the back of his hand, flinging it into the grass. He sat down, breathing hard. Lindsay joined him, gathering up her skirts and wiping off her knuckles with his handkerchief. 

“I kissed a boy.” Ryan turned and Lindsay held her head up high. “We were at a dance social and I kissed a boy.” Ryan raised his eyebrows, giving her a _look_ and Lindsay rolled her eyes. “What, everyone else has gone and kissed a boy, I figured I should give it a shot too.” 

Ryan huffed a light laugh. 

“I thought you didn’t march to the beat of anyone’s drum but your own.” He stretched his neck, some of the bones popping. “Did you like it?”

Lindsay pressed her lips into a thin line, recalling the night. It was hasty, like her and the boy were both scared and excited. It was fast, just a dry press of lips, and his hands were clammy on her shoulders. 

“It wasn’t what I was expecting.” Lindsay grimaced. “I don’t think I liked it. Is that weird? Girls say kissing is great. And if I want to be a good wife, I should learn to like kissing.”

Ryan giggled, sounding like the young boy who still used words like “plucky.” He wiped his eyes, smiling at Lindsay’s frown. 

“Kissing is not all it takes to be a good wife. A lot goes into it, stuff you’ll learn when you’re older.” Ugh, _when you’re older_ was a phrase Lindsay was starting to loathe. “And kissing boys and girls will never be fun because they don’t know what they’re doing.” He shrugged. “It’s a part of being young.”

Lindsay lips pulled back in disgust. 

“Well I don’t want to be young anymore. I’m tired of it.”

Ryan laughed so hard he gave himself the hiccups. A lot of people thought Ryan was scary, but really if they’d gotten to know him they’d know how much of a sweet geek he was. Lindsay couldn’t fault people too much; it meant that she got to keep Ryan to herself. 

If people were too stupid to take a closer look, well that wasn’t Lindsay’s problem. Besides, while the other kids were whining about blemishes and dresses, Ryan was teaching Lindsay how to shoot a gun. 

“You know,” Lindsay rode with Ryan to the edge of town when he left that summer, “most men wouldn’t teach a girl to do all the things you’ve taught me.”

Lindsay wasn’t complaining. She knew she could never go to her father, asking him to teach her how to shoot bottles with a pistol and shotgun. Her father wouldn’t tell her how to tie knots _and_ how to escape them. She wanted to know it all—and Ryan never said no. 

He pulled Diego’s reins, making him slow to a stop. Lindsay pulled back on her father’s old horse. Ryan took off his hat, worrying the ridge between his fingers before he looked at Lindsay. 

“I believe that if you have loved ones they should know how to protect themselves.” When Ryan smiled he was more delicate than he usually allowed himself to be. “I don’t want the people I love to be helpless on their own, and that includes you, firebird.” 

Lindsay didn’t fire back with a quip. She swallowed, her throat tight, and nodded. With a wave, Ryan rode on while Lindsay turned to return home. 

::::

Spring and summer seemed to bring a hurricane of hormones to Lindsay’s little town in Texas. Fifteen-year-old Lindsay might not have cared about boys, kissing, and all that nonsense—but _seventeen-year-old_ Lindsay was a whole different story. 

Lindsay did love riding horses and toying with a lasso—but she also loved dresses, lace, and ribbons in her hair. Every Sunday the church would hold socials where boys and girls could giggle over milk and cookies. 

Benny Dority was there. He had blonde hair and, what Lindsay’s mother called, a Roman nose. He was cute enough to sit with any girl—but he chose to sit with Lindsay. 

“Can I walk you home tonight?” Lindsay’s throat was dry, her heart pounding in her chest. She brushed her hair from her shoulder, playing it cool. He leaned in, whispering into her ear. “I just want to spend more time with you, somewhere quiet.” 

Lindsay stood up. 

“Yes. You sure it won’t be too far for you?”

Benny smiled and Lindsay felt like she was floating. 

“Not at all.”

The walk back was long and even though Benny lived in the opposite direction he never complained. He gave Lindsay his jacket and somewhere along the way he’d slipped his arm around her waist. Lindsay hadn’t wanted to kiss a boy so badly in her whole life. 

Benny seemed to read her mind, because he was leaning forward and for a sliver of time the world was truly beautiful. His lips were soft, his fingers light against her shoulder, and it was truly wonderful. Lindsay wasn’t kissing a boy, no that night she was kissing a _man_. 

Lindsay wishes that she could say that the world remained beautiful for the rest of the walk home. If she could turn back time, she would politely decline Benny’s sweet offer. 

His grip turned hard and his tongue pressed through her lips, slimy and intrusive. Lindsay recoiled, pulling back to breathe—to tell him to stop—but his fingers were tight in her red hair. He was pulling at her ribbons—the blue and white ribbons Lindsay had spent an hour putting in. 

“Stop it—”

A sharp _slap_ jarred Lindsay’s mind. Everything seemed to stop on that moment, when his hand connected with her cheek. It stung, sharp and cold. He held her hair tightly, jerking her close to him.

“Come on now,” His breath was hot and rancid against her face. Beautiful Benny had become monstrous in seconds. “You said you wanted me to walk you home. Everyone knows what that means.”

Benny had seemed so handsome at school, always holding the door for her, offering to carry her books. He seemed perfect; the kind of boy girls dream about marrying. In the dark, he was different. He pawed clumsily at Lindsay’s chest, making the buttons pop off her dress. 

Lindsay clenched her fist and remembered Ryan’s words about how the world does not forgive. Benny wouldn’t let go, and he certainly wasn’t playing fair. Lindsay remembered and took a deep breath.

….

Lindsay wanted to be brave as she ran across farmer Rockwell’s fields in the dead of night once more. She wanted to be full of grit with no remorse, but instead she was crying, her face hot in the cold and her hands shaking. She only had to knock once before the door opened and Ryan was there. 

He clasped her shoulders, looking her over. She didn’t know what he saw but it must have been bad. He tilted her chin up, making her look at him. 

“Are you okay?” 

Lindsay’s lower lip quivered and it hurt because _she wanted to be brave_. She wanted to be like Ryan, calm in control. She nodded because she didn’t trust herself to speak, not in that moment. Her fingers tangled in his shirt and he tugged her close, embracing her—standing on the porch in nothing but his underclothes until Lindsay stopped shaking, until she could breathe again. 

She listened to Ryan’s steady heartbeat as she spoke. 

“I need your help, Ryan.”

She rode with him on Diego, holding onto him as he made his way to where Benny’s body was. He slid off the horse, standing over the body. Lindsay had stayed long enough to make sure he wasn’t breathing. She had to make sure, she held her hands to his neck until his skin had gone cold. 

Lindsay jumped off Diego, not wincing even though it made her ankles throb. Her and Ryan’s breath fogged together in the deep, cold dark of that night. 

“He kept… grabbin’ at me even though I told him to stop.” Lindsay felt like she’d been wrung out like a wet cloth. No tears came, as she spoke. “He… forced his tongue into my mouth and pulled my hair when I asked him to quit it.” His face was ugly now, eyes bulging out and neck bruised. She wished everyone could see what a true monster’s face looked like. “So… I made him stop.”

Ryan reached down to squeeze her hand. 

“You did good, firebird.” His voice shook and his hand was warm against hers. “I’m just glad you’re all right.” 

Lindsay nodded. They lifted up Benny’s body together onto the horse. They rode down the road toward the north end of town, past the bakery, past the church, past the Sheriff’s house—they road in the dead of night while the rest of the world slept. 

Before they’d gone to Benny, Ryan had thrown together a bag once Lindsay had been able to spit out what she’d done. He tossed her a shovel and they dug without saying a word. He kept the hole shallow and long. The dirt was like clay, heavy and wet. 

Ryan laid the body down, leaving the head exposed. He pulled out his knife from its sheath, and he turned, looking at Lindsay. 

“Turn away, Lindsay.”

“No.” She shivered in the cold. “I did this. Not you.”

Ryan hesitated, but then turned back. He cut out Benny’s eyes quickly, even as Lindsay covered her mouth to hold back bile. He scooped them out, those honey-hazel eyes Lindsay had admired once, and put them in Benny’s open mouth. 

“People know he walked you home, so when they find him in the morning they’re going to come to you. They won’t think you were involved because in their eyes you’re just a girl.” As they rode back he kept talking. “They will ask you how the night went. You’ll say it went well, it was a dream, he was the perfect gentleman who kissed your hand and wished you sweet dreams.”

Ryan brought Lindsay home to her distraught mother and father. Her mom took her in her arms and Lindsay felt numb. At first her father had been ready to raise hell at the state of her dress, of her red cheeks and glazed eyes. But Lindsay was able to choke out, “he saved me, momma.”

Ryan sat in the living room and talked long with Lindsay’s father. She wasn’t sure what said, her mother had taken her to the washroom. She’d undressed Lindsay like she was a little girl. She saw the marks on Lindsay’s chest and said, “oh, child, my sweet child.” 

It was a few hours before Lindsay’s father knocked on the bathroom door. The bubbles hid Lindsay and her mother opened the door.

Her father had never looked older than he did in that moment. His cheeks were pale, his wrinkles profound. 

“Tonight, while I pray, I’ll thank God that he put Ryan Haywood on this Earth.” 

Lindsay nodded within the bath. 

“Is he still here?” Her voice sounded wrecked. It made her mother cry and her father flinch. He nodded. Lindsay splashed water onto her face. “Tell him I’ll meet him in my room.”

Her father complied without a word and her mother left with him. Lindsay toweled herself off and put on her nightgown. She walked up the stairs slowly, gathering her bearings until she opened the door to her room. Ryan was there, standing by her bed. 

Lindsay closed the door behind her, pulling back the blankets and sitting on the edge of the bed. Ryan sat next to her, the mattress squeaking under his weight. 

“I told your mother and father that I came upon the boy attempting to force himself onto you. I told him to stop, he wanted to fight, and he met his maker because of it.” 

She had a feeling that was the direction Ryan would take his story. Lindsay bowed her head, as if to start a prayer. 

“I can never repay you enough in my lifetime—”

“That’s what’s so great about being friends, Lindsay Tuggey. You’re never indebted to your friends.” 

Lindsay let him pull her close into a tight hug. She whispered quietly, shaking slightly in his arms. 

“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Ryan’s “of course,” was a solemn promise. He waited, Lindsay’s head in his lap. She thought she’d lay awake all night, haunted by her own coldness and the knowledge that the world wasn’t beautiful. Perhaps it was Ryan’s guarding presence that sent Lindsay off to dreamland within a matter of minutes. 

The next morning, Mrs. Sarah Baker stumbled upon Benny’s head during her morning visit to her neighbor’s gossip circle. She fainted on sight. 

The Sheriff was on the Tuggey’s porch an hour later, his hat in his hand. Lindsay surprised herself by gasping in surprise at the “news” of Benny’s macabre death. Her mother held a kerchief to her eyes while her father shook his head. 

“He wished me to have the sweetest of dreams.” Lindsay repeated the words Ryan had told her pass on. “He was… the kindest gentleman I’d ever met.” 

The Sheriff clutched his hat at her quivering lower lip. He wilted like a flower, all doe-eyed and at Lindsay’s beck and call. His hand touched her arm. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. It was an unfortunate circumstance, but I’m sure Benny Dority is smiling down at us, happy that his last night had been shared with you.” 

Lindsay’s father had a hoarse voice; he looked like he hadn’t slept. 

“Do you have any suspects, Sheriff?” 

The old Sheriff puffed his chest out, his belly hanging over his belt. 

“Judging by the way the body was positioned, it looks like a gang ritual. If I had to put money on it, I’d put it on the Worthington Gang. They run out in unsettled territory, the—the ritual is pretty common among their crimes.”

Lindsay said nothing. The Sheriff left with a tip of his hat. Hellfire never came up from the ground over one dead soul. The sky was still blue and the flowers sweet smell remained on the breeze. Time went on. God, in all His infinite wisdom, didn’t seem to bat an eye.

When Ryan left town as the leaves began to turn, Lindsay’s mother and father loaded him up with at least ten pounds of food. That night something shifted inside Lindsay, something cold and dark that wouldn’t devour her like a sickness. Instead it would simply live with her for the rest of her days.

She was starting to understand that this new animal inside of her—Ryan had one living in him too. 

::::

Lindsay’s twentieth birthday was a quiet affair. Her mother served tea and she spent a quiet lunch with friends in her backyard. Molly, a jubilant girl with glorious curls that made Lindsay envious—laughed like a chickadee. 

“Are you ever going to get married, Lindsay?” Years past, Lindsay might have become flustered. Instead her smile was calm as Molly pressed her foot against Lindsay’s shin. “Unless you’re spoken for. With that drifter fellow who comes around every summer?”

No one spoke Ryan’s name. He was just a farmhand with the coarse face and nothing much to say. Most of Lindsay’s friends were spoken for in some way, either engaged or in that strange state of might-as-well-be-engaged-everyone-is-just-waiting. Molly was one of the latter, no ring on her finger but that was just a formality.

“Ryan has no interest in being my husband just as I have no interest in being his wife. We are just excellent friends.” Lindsay sipped at her tea, it’s hot mint flavor burning down her throat. “I’ll marry when it suits me.” 

Her friends laughed even though she wasn’t joking. She happily accepted their gifts of lace and dresses. They really went all out and even though they were very different from Lindsay, she did love them. 

Once they left when the sun showed signs of setting Lindsay donned her jacket. Summer nights were strangely cold this year. Her mother and father knew the routine by now, and Ryan would forever be in their good graces as long as they lived. 

Lindsay took their horse and loaded him up with some leftover cake and coffee. The ride to Rockwell farms was a familiar route and the only request Farmer Rockwell had was that she not trod a path deep enough to become muddy. 

She tied up her horse outside of the cottage. 

“It’s a shame you had to work today, Ryan. You could have come and had tea with me and the girls, talking about boys and marriage—”

When Lindsay stepped through the door all jokes were laid to rest. Ryan laid in his bed, skin pale and he was slick with sweat. His eyes were glassy and for a horrifying moment Lindsay felt like she’d gone and slid off the side of the earth. She thought he was dead. 

“Lindsay…”

Ryan couldn’t even bring himself to sit up. His shirt was soaked through and he kept shaking. Lindsay threw her bag to the side, pushing her hair out of her face as she dropped to her knees beside his lumpy mattress on the floor. 

“Dear Lord, what has become of you, Ryan Haywood?” Lindsay pulled her kerchief from her purse and wiped at his brow. He smacked weakly at her hand and Lindsay glared at him. “Quit fussing like a damned baby.”

“Get away.” His voice sounded like it had been raked over the coals in Hell a few times. “I’m… I’m not well.” 

Lindsay forced a chuckle through her trembling lips.

“Why Ryan, you never boasted of your genius.” Lindsay heard his teeth chatter. It was cold, but not _that_ cold. “Come on, you need to get out of those wet clothes.” When Ryan didn’t comply, Lindsay blew out a long breath. “Well, big baby, if I do get married, don’t tell my future husband what I’m about to do.”

Lindsay quickly unbuttoned Ryan’s shirt, shucking it off. His trousers were another matter entirely. Lindsay grimaced, digging her fingers into the ties and pulling the material down, turning her head away to give Ryan as much privacy possible. 

After yanking on fresh sheets she let herself look. Ryan’s shivering had lessened slightly. His eyes were still glassy, his eyes welling. It scared Lindsay, to think that this might be the day she’d see tears fall from Ryan’s bone-dry eyes. 

“Our doctor is a sham, everyone knows if you want to get better you to the town north. My father is a friend of his, he’s a loudmouth who calls himself Burnie but his medicine is a thing of miracles.” 

Lindsay’s breath felt shallow. Her hands shook as she turned to Ryan’s spare clothing. Her horse wouldn’t be fast enough… but Ryan’s horse—if she rode Ryan’s horse she would be back by sunup. But she also needed to tell her parents so they didn’t worry themselves to death. 

“Lindsay…” Sometimes Lindsay swore Ryan could read her mind. She turned her back to him, hastily unfastening her dress. “Lindsay, don’t be a—a _fucking_ fool!” 

She knew he swore to scare her, but Lindsay wasn’t going to fall for it. 

“You better close your eyes. If you don’t I’m going to tell everyone you’re a degenerate.” 

Ryan chuckled at that, muttering about how he’d had far worse done to his reputation, but when Lindsay spared a glance over her shoulder he was covering his eyes. She stepped into Ryan’s spare pants and pulled on his shirt, tying up her hair so it would be hidden under his hat. His jacket was baggy enough that in the night, Lindsay would pass as a man. Perfection. 

She kept her shoes and slipped her purse into one of Ryan’s jacket’s giant pockets. She turned, taking Ryan’s hands away from his face. Once he saw her he shook his head with a weary smile. 

“What are you scheming, Lindsay Tuggey?”

Once he was on horseback, arms around Lindsay’s waist only in a wrapped sheet, Lindsay didn’t have to turn around to know Ryan was no longer smiling. She rode fast to her house, pulling Ryan off the horse and taking a good deal of his weight. 

“Lindsay, what are—what is _going on_?” 

Lindsay’s mother’s voice jumped up a few octaves once Ryan’s sheet started to slip. 

“Ryan’s gotten himself sick.” 

Her mother ducked under Ryan’s other arm immediately. Her father held the door open and the three of them managed to get Ryan into Lindsay’s bed without much fuss. Ryan coughed. It was a brittle sound that made Lindsay’s heart seize. 

She rushed down the steps, bursting through the doors and mounting Diego with a swift pull on his saddle. She flicked the reins and was off, pulling the hat down so it kept her hair in. 

Lindsay had never gone to the northern town on her own, and never in the dead of night. The darkness loomed, the branches of the trees reaching out like bony fingers ready to snatch Lindsay away if she wasn’t careful. She rode quick and didn’t let herself think about much, only her goal.

_Go faster, go faster, go faster._

She felt no relief passing the “Welcome to Bridgedale” sign. She could barely feel her legs by the time she’d gotten to Burnie’s “office.” It was a small place of wares, set up like a hardware store, but instead of tools it had sawbones and herbs on display. 

She tied up Diego, face stung from cold. Burnie was the kind of kook who left his door open. He lived above the office so he always closest to bed in case he needed a nap.

Lindsay pushed open the door. The last time she’d been here was when she was a little girl struck with a high fever. Burnie had banished the fever within the day. Lindsay hadn’t planned much on how she would convince Burnie to help her. She’d brought half her savings, and would be willing to part with the rest if he were to give her what she needed.

Lindsay swallowed, her throat tight as she struggled to come up with a speech that would win Burnie’s heart over to her plight. 

She didn’t hear a door open from the side room, but she did hear the cracked voice of a young man. 

“Hands up, fucker.” Lindsay froze because it wasn’t Burnie’s voice that was full of vinegar. She turned slightly, just enough to see fiery rust-colored hair and fierce brown eyes behind spectacles. “You best go back where you came. One more step and you’re a dead man.”

The young man had a face full of freckles and a pistol pointed at Lindsay’s chest. He was around her age, lean but had a bit of muscle on him. He had his chest puffed out, face pulled back into an exaggerated sneer that just proved how scared he was. 

Lindsay was not dying of some young buck that would more than likely shoot her by accident than intentionally. She darted forward, one hand knocking the young man’s knuckles and the other taking away his gun. Ryan had run her through the motion a thousand times. 

He had time to yelp before Lindsay had his own gun pointed back at him. She said nothing, just breathed hard as her knees shook. She hoped Ryan’s pants were baggy enough that the young man didn’t notice.

“Whoa wait—” The young man’s hands flew up, his eyes wide. “Fuck.”

He had a weird accent, too harsh and quick to be southern. Lindsay kept her head angled down; hoping Ryan’s hat would hide most of her face. 

“I’m not going to shoot you.” She whispered, that way the young man wouldn’t be able to get a clear register on how high her voice was. “Just leave me be, I know the doctor who lives here, I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Bullshit. A friend of Burnie doesn’t break into his fucking office.”

Lindsay wasn’t sure if she was impressed or baffled at the man’s continued use of harsh language and anger with her even though she had a gun aimed at him. He didn’t pretend to have the upper hand despite his words. His body had a submissive posture to it. 

Lindsay was about to state her case when heavy footsteps made wood creak and a long yawn drew their attention away from each other and to a very sleepy Burnie. 

“What… what in the hell is going on?” 

Lindsay put down the gun and took off her hat. 

“Burnie, I’m Lindsay Tuggey—you treated me when I was very young and I’m hoping you can do the same for a dear friend of mine in need. I know it’s late, but trust me when I saw it’s a dire emergency.” 

The old man rubbed his eyes, grunting for her to follow him as the young man’s jaw hung open like a fish. Lindsay didn’t have time to be embarrassed about the reveal of her true sex. 

“I’m guessing you couldn’t bring whoever it is you’re so worried about. It’d make a diagnosis easier.” 

“I know. He wasn’t able.” Lindsay bit her lip. “I can tell you all the problems in great detail.”

She described the coughing, fever, sweats, and shaking. Burnie asked her questions that Lindsay wasn’t used to answering, but she did her best in those moments. It felt like years before Burnie barked out a list of… what Lindsay hoped was medicine to the young man. 

“Get all of it gathered for Miss Lindsay here, Michael. I’m going back to bed and I better not be woken up again.” 

Burnie stalked up the stairs and the young man, Michael, moved quickly in the office, pulling open drawers and stuffing a satchel full. 

“I’m writing down directions for the medicine. Follow them carefully unless you want your fellow to get worse.” Lindsay nodded, taking the satchel and tucking it into her pocket. She mounted the horse, Michael watching from Burnie’s porch. “Your husband is a lucky man.” 

Lindsay frowned, glancing at the freckled man. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Your husband. That’s why you rode out here in the middle of the night, isn’t it?” 

Lindsay rolled her eyes. 

“No, it isn’t. I rode out here for a dear friend. Sorry for the scare before. Have a wonderful night, Michael.” 

She tipped her hat and kicked Diego, leaving Burnie’s office behind. By the time she got back to her own porch the horizon had hints of periwinkle seeping into the dark indigo. Her body, which had been numb for the entire ordeal, was struck with a sudden weariness. Every step up to her room was agonizing, but she trudged on. 

Her mother and father had remained awake in Lindsay’s room and once she opened the door they jerked awake in their chairs. 

“Lindsay, dear God, I was worried to death!” 

Her mother was a mixture of furious and relived, an expression Lindsay believed only parents could ever achieve. Her father was weary and proud, his hand heavy on her shoulder as she pulled her satchel free from her pocket. She poured the first dose past Ryan’s dry lips.

Lindsay pulled up a chair and sat, hating how shallow Ryan’s breaths were and how he didn’t respond even when she shook him. 

“You better not die on me, you son of a bitch.” 

Exhaustion devoured her like a rabid wolf, viciously and quickly. She couldn’t tell if she was crying. She laid her head on Ryan’s chest, listening to each shuddering inhale that was full of liquid. She wanted to tell herself that of course Ryan wouldn’t die, that he’d live on forever—but she knew how dangerous sickness could be. She only hoped she’d been fast enough. 

Alone in her room, back hunched over and her hair hanging in her face, Lindsay spoke to Ryan, hoping he’d hear her. 

“We’re special to each other, aren’t we? I felt it, when we first met I felt that link between us, deeper than love, deeper than blood.” Her fingers tightened their grip on the sheets covering Ryan. “When God made us, when he had all his creations waiting to be finished, I believe we shared a table. We laid together waiting to be made and that’s why we know each other so deeply.”

It hurt to speak the words that Lindsay felt didn’t need voicing. She closed her eyes tightly, her hands clenching into fists. 

“Please don’t make me wait until I go to face my Maker to see you again.”

As the sun rose outside Lindsay kept begging until her voice failed. Sometime after that, she must have fallen asleep because she woke when the sky was a deep orange. 

Her back was in pain, her legs ached, and Lindsay blinked only to feel that her eyes were puffy. She grunted, only to feel someone’s fingers in her hair. 

She looked up to see Ryan staring down at her. 

His color hadn’t fully returned to his cheeks and his skin was still clammy to the touch. Lindsay didn’t care about any of that, not when he smiled, tired but _alive_.

“Hey there, firebird.” 

Lindsay would love to say that she politely responded with a smile before excusing herself to clean herself up. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck, sending Ryan into a coughing fit. 

Later, when Ryan more secure on his way to recovery, Ryan would take Lindsay’s hand in the dark. 

“I heard you.” His voice, quiet in the witching hours, would remain with Lindsay for the rest of her life. She had no voice and barely a few hours of sleep for a week. She needed a soft mattress and a long bath—but in that moment she could not imagine being anywhere else. “We did indeed share that table. Just took us a while to find each other once we were sent on our way.” 

….

Lindsay allowed herself to rest when Ryan was well enough to go back to work. She slept for day and a half. When she woke, it was by her mother’s hand gently shaking her awake. Lindsay grumbled, cracking an eye open.

“What is it?” 

Lindsay’s mother bent down, her eyes bright. 

“There is a young man here to see you, Lindsay.” 

Lindsay was awake in a moment, sitting up with wide eyes. 

“Did he say his purpose? What does he want? Where did he come from?” 

Lindsay’s mother laughed.

“You can ask him that. He’s sitting downstairs with your father. They’re talking over tea, but he’s here to see you. Asked for you by name.” 

Lindsay leapt out of bed, throwing back the covers. 

“Please tell him I’ll be down momentarily, I just need to make myself presentable.”

Her mother smiled, laughter in her eyes. 

“Absolutely.” 

Lindsay was on the move once her bedroom door closed. She didn’t go for her best dress. No woman ever meets someone in her best dress. She _saves_ that dress. Lindsay went for the one that was peach-colored, quickly tying up the ribbons. 

Dragging her comb through her hair, Lindsay pinched her cheeks to make them pink before heading downstairs. 

Of all the men that could possibly want to speak to Lindsay, she was not expecting to see the young man with the face splattered with freckles. Michael… that’s right, his name was Michael. Lindsay’s mother and father stood. Michael froze, still in his seat, his eyes wide behind his glasses—before he hurried to stand, almost knocking over his tea. 

“Good morning, Miss Tuggey. I was hoping to catch you before you went about your day.”

Such precision and elegance seemed strange and unnatural coming from Michael’s lips. He looked uncomfortable speaking that way, his eyes jumping from Lindsay to her mother and father. 

Lindsay was thankful that her voice didn’t waver as she gestured to the porch.

“How about we sit outside so we don’t waste this nice weather?” 

She felt as if she were in a play, reading words from a page rather than having a real conversation. Michael nodded, holding the door open as Lindsay stepped through. 

As soon as the door closed, Lindsay dropped her airy smile. 

“I did not expect to see you again.” Lindsay crossed her arms. “If there is anything I can do to make up for my… conduct, a meal, maybe some loaves of bread—” Lindsay saw that he was staring at her. “What is it?”

“Sorry.” Michael laughed, much more at ease. “I’m just not used to seeing you in women’s clothing.” 

There was a brief lull of silence before Lindsay laughed, loud and short, Michael soon following her example. He had this way of giggling, his nose scrunching and eyes going thin that was absolutely charming. 

Once Lindsay had caught her breath, she held out her hand. 

“Since I didn’t have a chance to properly introduce myself—I’m Lindsay Tuggey.”

Michael’s eyes still shone with repressed laughter. He had a good handshake, brisk and firm. 

“It’s hard to remember your manners when you’ve got a fucking gun pointed at someone.” Michael winked. “I’m Michael Jones.”

Lindsay’s heart was tugged toward that freckled smile, a dull thud against her ribs that was alarming but not unwelcome. Judging by the way Michael’s hand lingered on hers, Michael reciprocated.

As his thumb ran over Lindsay’s knuckles, she felt as though a page in her life’s book was turning, a new chapter about to begin. 

 

 

TBC


	2. The Outlaw and the Sheriff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problem with legends is that they aren’t born from mothers. As far as the world was concerned, the Brown Man walked out of the California desert a few years back and had made an impression since.

Ray fell into the Worthington gang like most young men did—knocked down, alone, and desperate. 

Looking back, he’d been arrogant, biting off so much he would have choked to death if Al Worthington hadn’t been there to provide Ray a safe getaway when no one else would. Ray thought he’d been using Al, but he’d just been young and stupid. Al would have left Ray out to rot if he hadn’t been an essential tool to his team.

It was a frigid spring night in the California Mountains as Ray cut the throats of five horses. He prayed reverently, each word puffing out in the pitch darkness. His tears warmed his face as he stroked each beast’s mane until their last shuddering breath wheezed. Ray told himself they were better dead than being used by Al and his gang. 

He rode on his horse, the only one left alive, with bags weighed down by bills and coins. As his horse’s hooves slammed down onto the dirt he heard Al’s voice bellowing out into the night. 

“I’m gonna find you boy!” Ray’s heart hammered in his chest and he forced himself to keep going, digging his heels into his horse’s side. Al was an old son-of-a-bitch with a face that Time had eroded away until all that was left were deep wrinkles and crooked teeth. “I’m gonna find you, and when I do even the Devil won’t want what’s left!”

Ray knew a long time ago that he was not getting into Heaven—but that night was the first time he felt the cold flames of Hell hot on his heels. 

He rode until the sky had lightened and then darkened—he rode until his own horse was wheezing and he still pressed on until he found the barley visible moss-covered path. Ray was never one to stay in once town since he was a child, but he did return to once place with some regularity. 

His legs shook as he dismounted his exhausted horse. He’d be lucky if his steed survived the night—Ray pushed him too hard but he needed to run. He tugged at his scarf and glanced up at the stone towers hidden away in the woods. Before he touched the brass knocker the large oak doors swung open and a hoard of children stared at him with wide eyes. 

“Who are you?” 

The girl at the front with the wild unruly hair and two missing teeth stuck her chin out and crossed her arms. The other kids drew closer to her, wary of Ray as they should be. Even though the girl didn’t back down like her peers her knees were shaking. Ray dragged his hand down his face.

“Where is Sister Tina?”

“Children—what have I said about talking to strangers—?” Sure enough, Tina appeared. Ray would know her voice from anywhere. He rounded the corner, her habit billowing behind her. Her eyes widened when she saw him. Ray took off his hat, well aware that he looked ragged and run-down. Hell, blood was still caked underneath his fingernails and his voice was hoarse from praying. Tina had gotten older, but not taller. She had laugh lines forming and that was good. She smiled. “You know, most people write ahead when they decide to visit.” 

Ray grinned, leaning against the doorway to keep from keeling over. 

“Sister, spontaneity is the most charming part of life.”

He winked and Tina rolled her eyes before gesturing to the children. 

“Come on, kids. Back to your studies while I deal with this vagabond.” As the orphans ran away with gleeful chatter, Tina’s smile faded slightly. “You look awful, Ray.”

“Ouch. My pride is wounded, Tina.”

“Good.” Tina tucked a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. “Your pride is probably the reason you’re here with bloodshot eyes and a half-dead horse.” Ray remembered when Tina was a bubbly firecracker. As the years went on the bubbles were replaced with a weary smoke-like texture. “Come on, bring your horse around the back. We’ve got a stable, if he’s lucky he might survive the night.”

Ray followed Tina around the side of the convent and led his horse to the water. He stroked its neck, his hands shaking until he had to close his eyes because they burned—he thought he’d be able to hide his cowardice from Tina. Her hand was gentle on his back. 

Ray wanted to apologize but he couldn’t because any apology from him had sounded empty for the last eight years. So he remained silent until he trusted himself to wipe his nose and take his hands away from his face. 

“Is it bad?” Tina brushed her fingers over Ray’s spine. “How bad is it, Ray?” 

“Not as bad as I look, I promise.” Ray brushed his hands off on his pants before unloading his bags. “Just… I’m tired. I made a mistake and for two years I’ve been trying to fix it. I finally did—and now I’m tired.” He gave Tina the lightest bag while he carried the heavier four. “Could I trouble you for a bath?”

Tina laughed loud. 

“If you didn’t ask I was going to insist. I’ll draw it up and while you clean yourself the children and I will have dinner. I’ll be sure to save you some.”

Ray’s old room had changed a bit since the last time he’d been there. More dust but the same worn furniture and bed. He saw down on the bed as Tina quickly poured hot water into a basin. She glanced at him briefly. 

“You’ll probably still fit in this. You haven’t grown much.”

“Oh fuck you very much, Tina.”

“It’s _Head Sister_ Tina to you, Ray. You’re talking to a nun and you still use such foul language.” 

She was smiling. Ray peeled off his shirt, kicking off his boots. 

“What happened to Head Sister Prudence? Did you get that old crow to promote you?”

“No.” Tina’s voice was soft, like cracked glass. “She died, Ray. I was going to write you but… I didn’t know what address was yours, if you even had one.”

Ray recoiled, realizing how quiet the convent had seemed… how he’d only seen Tina. 

“Tina?” When she turned her eyes were wet. She finally looked her age—one year younger than him and not an old maid committed to God. “Tina, where are all the other Sisters?” 

“They left.” Ray swore under his breath as Tina took a deep breath. By the time she was finished she was back to being poised. “They felt that this convent, that the children—could be left in my care as they moved on to another convent down south. So I stayed.”

“I would have—shit, Tina, I would have helped—”

“I know, I know. I just didn’t know where to write to, Ray. So I managed.” Tina straightened. “Have a nice bath.”

As soon as the door closed Ray took away his scarf and unbuttoned his pants. He sank into the basin that he unfortunately did still fit into. He washed away the days of grit stuck to his skin. He closed his eyes because God it felt so great to just _sit and exist_ for a while. He took time to scrub away the dried blood until his skin was sensitive and pink

He found some of his old clothes and pulled them on wearily before he threw the bathwater out of the window. He opened the door in time to hear Tina’s voice floating up from the stone corridors. 

“Remember, I’m only one door away. Knock whenever you need me. Sweet dreams.”

Ray crept down the hall to see the line of kids each getting a kiss on the forehead. He remembered standing in that line as a boy waiting for Head Sister Prudence to kiss him goodnight. No matter how much trouble he’d get into, all would be forgiven by bedtime. 

Tina closed the door and caught Ray’s eye. They walked down to the kitchen in silence until Tina poured them both water. 

“I can’t believe the Sisters left you here.” Ray took a long slug of water. “Fuck them.” 

“Jesus Christ, Ray.” Ray’s eyes widened and they both laughed, Tina giggling helplessly while Ray tried to smother his loud mirth. Tina removed her headdress. “Good Lord, the things I say around you.” Ray wiped his eyes and dug into the potatoes Tina saved for him. “They didn’t abandon me. They said if my work alone was exemplary that… I would be rewarded for my efforts and more Sisters and funds would be sent to me. By next year I’m sure I’ll be the head of a bustling Sisters of Mercy Convent. For right now, it’s just me.” 

Ray wished they could both be the carefree children who laughed freely and told dirty jokes once more. Hell, Ray still did all those things—but—

He tugged at his scarf. Tina’s smile faded for the shortest of moments before she crushed it with a brilliant grin.

“Still a decent shot?” 

Ray puffed his chest out and winked.

“Sweetheart, I never miss.”

In the cozy warmth of the convent’s kitchen Ray was tempted to forget about Al and his money—his treasure trove sitting in Ray’s bags. He was tempted to pull the wool over his own eyes and help Tina with the kids for the rest of his days… he could see it as clear as day…

Ray clenched his fists, shoving away his daydream. 

“I… I need to leave, Tina… and get away as far as I can.”

Tina’s grin cracked around the edges. She leaned forward, not bothering to fix her hair when it fell in front of her face. Ray had a few ideas as to where he could go, his mind buzzing so loud that he almost didn’t fear Tina’s soft voice when she spoke. 

“I’ve heard mumblings of a town east of here. In the unclaimed territories.” Tina shoved her hair back, her dark eyes meeting Ray’s. “It’s a place people are calling a fresh start. No one asks questions of who you are or why you’re there—there is no law. It’s a safe haven for those who have lost their way.” Tina stood, plucking a framed map off the wall. Her finger glided over the glass, settling on a patch of land between a whole lot of mountains and _nothing_. “It should be about here.”

Ray scoffed. 

“Oh yeah? And has this underground Paradise got a name?”

Tina glared at him, her lips curling back in such an unbridled rage that Ray flinched.

“Sorry if I’m out of options for you, Ray. Sorry that your face is on damn near every Wanted poster—sorry if I don’t want whatever evils are chasing you to catch you—I—” Tina ground her teeth together, her eyes burning fierce with vitriol. “You might have a chance there, Ray. When I travel into town the reputation of this city sounds more and more promising.”

Ray packed that night, making sure all his pistols were loaded and his trusty spyglass was at his side. He left most of the money in Tina’s room. By the time dawn broke out above the skyline, Ray was packed and ready for the long journey forward. 

Tina walked with him over the morning dew. His horse was still alive… though Ray knew it wouldn’t survive the trek, but it would help him get a good portion of the way there.

A chilled breeze blew through the trees. Tina shivered, rubbing her hands together. 

“Promise me that you’ll write once you get there.”

Ray tipped his hat. 

“I promise, Tina.” She opened her mouth, indignant, and Ray smirked. “My apologies—Head Sister Tina.” 

Ray pulled himself up onto his horse and Tina handed him a full canteen. 

“Don’t judge it by its funny name. Give it a chance.”

Before she could snatch her hand back Ray captured it. He leaned down and instead of kissing her knuckles he bit down, hard enough to sting. Tina hissed and Ray released her hand. With a final smile, Ray kicked his horse and galloped off, the wind tangling in his hair. 

The sun rose casting harsh light onto the path before him—a path that would hopefully lead him to the mysterious Achievement City.

::::

The problem with legends is that they aren’t born from mothers. The Brown Man, the drifting sharp shooter who never missed had no mother. The Brown Man walked with a confident swagger and could stare down the barrel of a gun without so much as breaking a sweat. As far as the world was concerned, the Brown Man walked out of the California desert a few years back and had made an impression since. 

Ray Narvaez Jr was born on a hot summer’s day over twenty years ago. His mother died before Ray drew his first breath, some say she gave her life to him, not like that provided Ray with much comfort as an orphan. Ray Narvaez Jr liked making daisy chains with the kids in town, one girl in particular made Ray laugh harder than any other. 

He wasn’t sure if it was Ray or the Brown Man who had to stand on the gallows at sixteen—his best friend’s screams ringing out across the crowd as rope looped around his neck…

Twilight broke and Ray’s horse had passed on days ago. He hiked up the steep mountain trails, following the strange symbols carved into the trees—a circle with a star in the center. 

He wiped sweat from his brow, grateful that the air was cold enough to cool him down. He reached the top of the peak—and as soon as he did he heard… chatter. The unmistakable sounds of civilization. It was close, flowing up the mountains like a siren’s song. He heard a woman laughing and somewhere a child shrieked in delight. 

Ray grounded himself, taking deep breaths before climbing up the nearest tree he could find and pulling out his spyglass. 

It only took a moment for his eyes to adjust and the unmistakable glow of city street lamps beckoned him. Ray felt a smile curl on his dry, cracked lips as he watched people move about, waving to each other. The buildings were all recently built, the wood too young and pristine to be old. 

The city was new, just as Tina said. 

Ray moved his spyglass to see an imposing wall that surrounded the city… and an intimidating gate that was shut. Ray chuckled, tucking away his spyglass and climbing back down.

“Talk about paranoid.” 

Ray slid down the hill as darkness stretched over the mountainside and the moon rose to take the sun’s place. Ray walked along the wall until he couldn’t hear much on the other side. He flung his bags over the wall before ripping his scarf off, winding it around his hand before taking a running leap. His fingers bled against the wood, and he grimaced, pulling himself up and over. Ray would like to say that he gracefully slid down the other side, but it would be inaccurate. He fell, his ankles throbbing painfully for a moment. 

Ray leaned against the wall, quickly wrapping his scarf back around his neck. He grabbed his bags, straightened his hat, and took in his surroundings. The houses were modest, shops with living spaces on top. Dirt roads and lanterns lit the way. Ray slung his bags over his shoulder and drifted toward the noise. 

The small roads opened up into a large main square where it seemed the entire town milled about, clusters of people talking amicably. Laughter was rampant and Ray blended into the background seamlessly. His eyes drifted over several interesting characters. A blonde woman with a lopsided haircut and a dangerous smile was chatting with an obviously completely enamored mustached man. A redheaded woman was laughing, talking to three men, one a lanky giant, one a short troll-like fellow, and another lithe young man. They all seemed to hang off her every word. 

Most of the townspeople headed for the theater, which was the most lavish building Ray had seen so far. Ray caught a glimpse of a skinny young man in the crowd. He had dark, big eyes and a gaunt face. Ray immediately recognized the expression as the young man made his way through the crowd, towards the Redhead. Ray hung back, slowing down to see what the man was planning to do. 

Ray watched the man bump into a few people on the way, his hands slipping into their pockets as brazen as he was sloppy. Ray’s eyebrows rose because even though the kid’s marks didn’t notice did not mean he was a good thief. Finally, the man reached the Redhead and his land slipped into her jacket pocket—and her hand darted out and grabbed his wrist. 

“Hey!” The Redhead’s voice cut through the chatter, the man struggling in her grip, her wallet still in his hands. “Give that back—”

The young man panicked and jerked his hand back and slapped her _hard_ across the face before shoving her into the three men she was with. Before the Redhead could scream a few colorful curses (which she did, loudly), the young man bolted, cutting his way through the curious crowd effortlessly.

Maybe this failure would teach the wannabe thief to either give it up or get better. Ray lazily sauntered forward, uninterested until thunderous hooves came up behind him. Ray tensed, a black blur streaked past him. Ray stumbled forward and watched as a man on a horse parted the crowd and a lasso shot out and wrapped around the young man’s torso. With a merciless yank, the thief was thrown to the ground with a pitiful yelp. 

Ray was hypnotized by the tall, broad figure that stepped down from the horse. Ray approached slowly, melding into the crowd and making his way to the front because he had to see the man who _impressed_ Ray within seconds of their meeting. Ray had met plenty of men who claimed to be flawless at rope work, but he’d never met someone who could back up that claim until that night. 

The thief writhed on the ground, his big brown doe eyes wet. The man on the horse had a silver star pinned to his chest—oh—it was the Sheriff. Apparently Achievement City _did_ have law. 

“Are you all right, Lindsay?”

The Sheriff growled low and dangerous like a lion. He had golden-brown hair and a shadow of stubble to match. Ray watched the Sheriff’s icy blue eyes meet Lindsay the Redhead’s. Ray almost laughed because the thief had to be dumbest moron alive because _who tries to pickpocket the Sheriff’s wife?_

“Yes.” Lindsay’s expression was cold, her cheek still red. “What hurts most is my pride.”

“I’m sorry, Lindsay. I’m so sorry I panicked—I just—”

The thief’s blubbering was cut off by the Sheriff shaking the man by the collar, just one time but it was more than enough to silence the young man. 

“Do you know the type of law I believe in, Demarais?” The boy shook his head, eyes wide. “I believe in an ancient scripture, we say ‘an eye for an eye’ now, but it was much more detailed in ancient times.” The Sheriff slowly pulled a large saber from a sheath on his side. “I should cut off your fingers for striking a woman, then cut off the rest of your right hand for stealing.” 

A deluge of begging came from the man’s mouth, saliva threading together between his lips. Ray did empathize because he’d been just as desperate as the blubbering boy in the mud. The Sheriff put away his knife and stood up. 

“As much as I would love to practice the ancient law, I wouldn’t want to offend others. Instead, you’re exiled. Never return to Achievement City unless you’d like me to take away your fingers and hand.”

The Sheriff patted the man down and took back all the wallets he’d lifted. He returned Lindsay’s last, his eyes only softening for her. Ray was tempted to gag—and then the boy, Demarais, fumbled with his coat, pulling out a gun. 

Ray couldn’t say he was thinking in that moment. As Lindsay gasped, eyes widening, Ray’s gun was already in his hand, his grip steady and sure as he fired. The shot echoed throughout the town as it hit Demarais‘s hand, making him drop the gun. All eyes swiveled to Ray. God, he was so _dumb_. So much for remaining hidden in plain sight. 

The Sheriff lashed out, hitting Demarais with a heavy fist once and knocked him out. He turned to Ray, those icy eyes trapping him. Ray manifested his most charming smile and twirled his gun around his fingers before slipping it back into his holster, holding up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Well, that was quite the show. If I’d known this city held such excitements I would have come sooner.” 

The Sheriff didn’t bat an eye.

“Did you pass through the gate before it closed?” 

“Of course, Sheriff, what kind of man do you take me for?” 

The Sheriff grabbed Ray’s hands, his movements too quick for Ray to react to. 

“A liar.” His fingers ran over Ray’s bleeding and splinter-ridden palms. “How did you get over the wall?” 

Ray could feel the entire town staring at him. He kept his cheery smile on, batting his eyelashes. 

“Why, Sheriff, I’m a virtuous man, I’m not ready for such serious courtship.” Some laughter rang out in the crowd and the Sheriff tossed away Ray’s hands like he’d been burned. Ray pointed to the groaning Demarais on the ground. “Looks like he’s starting to wake, Sheriff.” 

The Sheriff poked Ray hard in the chest with his index finger.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Ray never let his smile falter.

“Goodie.”

The Sheriff turned, yanking Demarais to his feet. He turned him around and there was a march toward the main gates. Since being punched, Demarais had quieted down, his tears flowing in silence. The crowd dissipated, until it was just Ray, Lindsay, and the Sheriff at the main gate. The Sheriff pulled the chains himself, muscles moving under his shirt and coat. He cast the chain on the hook to keep the gate open.

Demarais wiped his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to I just—I just wanted more.” He turned to Lindsay. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Lindsay, I was just scared.”

“I know, Chris.” Lindsay rubbed her cheek. “I hope things work out for you.”

Demarais’s smile wobbled and he took a deep breath before stepping past the gate. His lean and willowy figure was stark against the menacing wilderness. He turned, mouth open, and the Sheriff released the chains, the gate slamming down. Whatever Demarais had to say was lost, and he didn’t bother attempting to shout it over the wall. Ray swallowed and turned to see a man scrambling down the road, all auburn curls and thick glasses. 

“Lindsay, Lindsay!” He swept her up in a hug and kissed her. Ray’s eyes widened because _whoa_ , wasn’t that the Sheriff’s wife? Ray’s gaze drifted over to the Sheriff, but he was massaging his own hands, a few spots of blood from the chains coming away. Ray watched the man pull back from Lindsay only to hug her again. “Holy shit, hun, you scared me.” 

Lindsay laughed, slugging her man in the shoulder. 

“Please. It was just a slap.”

Her man’s fists clenched, a fiery fury burning in his eyes as he glared at the closed gate. 

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“You aren’t going to do anything.” The Sheriff’s voice was more relaxed. “He’s not coming back.” The man with the glasses hugged Lindsay from behind, his fingers running over her knuckles. The Sheriff waved them away. “Go and enjoy the rest of your anniversary. I’m sure the night can still be salvaged.”

Lindsay threaded her fingers through her husband’s.

“I’m sure we can manage. Thank you, Ryan.” The Sheriff cleared his throat. “I’m sorry—thank you, Sheriff Haywood.”

With a brief laugh and the slightest smile from Sheriff Haywood, Lindsay and her husband left. Ray rubbed the back of his neck when Haywood caught him staring and his smile dropped. Ray wanted to make a joke about the complexity of love, but he wasn’t sure goading the Sheriff would be a good idea. 

“Where’s your horse?” Ray blinked, and the Sheriff crossed his arms. “Typically if one’s looking to move, one uses a horse to travel.”

“Oh, my horse didn’t make it. The journey was too hard on him.”

“But not on you.”

Ray knew he was being sized up. He tilted his chin up slightly, his smile light and more exhausted than he’d like to admit. 

“I won’t say I’m not tired. I’d do anything for a bed. If you could point me in the direction of the local Inn—”

“The rooms are full.” Sheriff’s Haywood’s hand fell on the small of Ray’s back, steering him back into town. “I’ve got a spare room you can use for the time being.” 

Ray was surprised but didn’t say anything. They both knew there was at least one bed at the Inn Ray could use. Sheriff Haywood wanted to get a handle on Ray—on the sharpshooter who just so happened to climb his way into Achievement City right when he was needed. Ray understood. If The Sheriff wanted to do a little investigating, Ray would let him. At this rate, Ray just wanted to sleep. 

Sheriff Haywood barely had time to show Ray around his house, as soon as he said, “And this is my guest room—” Ray kicked off his boots, tossed his bags to the side, and fell onto the mattress. 

::::

Chirping birds woke Ray. He grimaced, his legs throbbing and aching. He hissed, rubbing his muscles before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Ray ran his fingers through his hair and the door swung open. He was on his feet instantly, sharp pain in his legs be damned. 

“Easy, it’s just me.”

For a moment Ray had no idea who the grizzled man in front of him was until the events of the night before came back. Ray did his best to subtly shift his body from being on high alert to casual, but he was sure it was too late to hide it from the Sheriff. Ray glanced out of the window to see the sky was already pink and orange. 

“Uh—what time is it?”

“Late in the day. Sun will set soon.” Ray didn’t sleep… not for more than a couple of hours at a time. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got milk and water.”

“Milk is good.”

Ray followed the Sheriff out into the rest of his house. It was… sparse. Nothing personal about it at all. Ray liked it; he’d holed up in plenty of places like it for a few months before his restlessness had him moving on. The Sheriff poured a tall glass of milk and Ray pulled out a chair, wincing as he sat down.

“Are you hurt?”

“Man, you’re an observant son-of-a-bitch aren’t you?” Ray smiled, taking the glass from the Sheriff. “My legs hurt. Trekking through the woods is no picnic.” Ray leaned back in his chair, breathing in deep with an easy-going smile that was meant to disarm anyone it was aimed towards. “Tell me, Sheriff, are you usually so hospital to newcomers?”

“No.” Damn, he didn’t give Ray an _inch_. He just stared him down until Ray averted his eyes, his cheeks burning because he hated losing. “Not all newcomers are quick to draw with even better aim.” 

“All right. I didn’t want to admit this… but you’re right to be suspicious.” Ray adjusted his spectacles, leaning forward. The Sheriff followed his lead, his expression grim. “I used to be in the circus as the Suave Sharpshooter.”

The Sheriff’s expression transformed into befuddlement, his eyes widening and lips parting. Ray snorted, unable to keep a straight face until they were both laughing. Ray wiped his eyes, clutching his stomach because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a great break of laughter. Sheriff Haywood stood, eyes still bright. 

“Come on, there’s a position open at the bar. The owner wants to see if you’re up to snuff.” 

The owner was the man with the whimsical mustache named Geoff Ramsey who, despite his mixed appearance of fantastical and grit, was a goofball. Ray rarely pulled out “goofball” as a description, but Geoff was a worthy occasion. 

“Wait—you don’t drink?”

“No, man. Tastes like shit.”

“You’re hired!” Geoff cackled, his hands falling on Ray’s shoulders. “You’re a fucking Godsend, kid. I hate it when my own workers drink more than the patrons.” Ray couldn’t help but smile with Geoff and his crazy moustache. When Ryan’s own hand on Ray’s shoulder stopped Geoff from pulling Ray into a hug, Geoff slapped away the Sheriff’s hands. “Hands off my employee, Sheriff. I need to show him the ropes!” 

With a yank, Geoff gave Ray a quick hug before pulling him back behind the bar. He spoke with a merry tempo that made his voice crack with excitement. He brought warmth with him, his movements loose and careless. Geoff asked no questions and didn’t side-eye Ray for his ratty scarf or dirty fingernails. 

He saw Ray make a perfect shot and didn’t immediately want Ray’s ability for his own use. 

“Hey, little man, are you okay?”

Ray flinched, Geoff’s firm grip bringing him back to attention. Ray scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah—yeah I just thought you’d be asking more questions.” 

Geoff rolled his eyes. 

“Well, I _was_ but you weren’t answering.”

Ray shook his head, his cheeks hot. 

“I didn’t… that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Yeah, I know. I was bustin’ your balls.” Geoff knocked back a shot of bourbon and wiped his mouth. “It’s kind of an unwritten law here that no questions are asked of new fish, since this whole town is new. Doesn’t matter what you’ve done out there,” Geoff waved his hand toward the door, behind the walls and gate that surrounded Achievement City, “just what you end up doing in here.” 

Ray swallowed, nodding and wringing his hands before snapping his fingers, remembering that he owed Tina a letter.

“Hey, where’s the post office around here?”

Achievement City was a strange mixture of buried secrets and friendly openness. It was unnerving. Ray liked working at the bar—it was an easy way to meet everyone and get a feel for them. Griffon was the woman Geoff was head over heels for, the local carpenter who smiled with more teeth than lips. Ray was fairly certain she’d go out on a date with Geoff if he ever got over himself and asked her out without choking on his own tongue. 

Sheriff Ryan Haywood… he’d make everyone quiet down, even Geoff. He didn’t drink but would often stop by the bar to check up on Ray. Ray always made sure to hold his hands up and wink. None of the gossip Geoff ever had to share ever involved the Sheriff. 

There were three men who came into Achievement City together. Kdin, Jeremy, and Matt. They liked to think of themselves as big shots—but they were hopelessly wrapped around Lindsay Jones’s slender fingers. The town called them “Lindsay’s Shadows.” 

Michael Jones was Ray’s favorite. He was the town’s doctor but swore like the crankiest sailor alive. He’d only drink on the weekends, but he was quick with his hands as good at games. Ray knew they’d get along famously.

And then…

There was Lindsay Jones, Michael’s wife. 

Of all the secrets in Achievement City, the Sheriff’s affections for Lindsay were the most obvious. They’d always wave and make time to speak to each other, and Lindsay was one of the few people who didn’t flinch from the Sheriff’s presence. In fact, she seemed to laugh to herself when others let themselves be intimidated by him. They shared secret smiles when they thought no one was watching. 

Ray laid awake in the middle of the night. Either Lindsay and the Sheriff were discreet lovers, or all of the Sheriff’s affections were unrequited. 

Ray heard soft footsteps outside of his door and he closed his eyes just as the door opened. Ray made sure to keep his face slack, his expression peaceful, and his breathing even as the Sheriff watched him. Surely it was a brief moment but it seemed longer before the door closed and the footsteps retreated. Ray sat up, ears straining, and he heard the front door open. 

Ray grabbed his spyglass and coat on a whim, light on his feet as he headed out of the Sheriff’s house. A light fog slithered above the grass and Ray squinted to see bobbing lantern. He stayed in the shadows, ignoring the cold as he followed the Sheriff. Instead of going to Lindsay and Michael’s house like Ray had anticipated, the Sheriff went to the wall that surrounded the city. He ran his fingers along it until he stopped suddenly. Ray froze, wondering if he’d been heard, but relaxed when Ryan pulled out a few boards in the wall and slipped out. 

Ray smirked. Even the lawful, justice-obsessed Sheriff had a way of getting through the wall. Ray counted to sixty before following, tracking the boot prints up the mountain until he caught sight of the Sheriff’s lantern. It was still. Ray ducked behind a tree and pulled out his spyglass. He peeked around the tree and saw that the lantern was hanging off a branch, and there seemed to be more fog around it. 

Instead of directly following Ryan’s footprints Ray took another route, still heading up the hill and keeping the lantern in his sight. The ground evened out and Ray climbed a tree, keeping slightly downhill. With his spyglass at the ready Ray brought it back up to his eye.

The first thing he noticed was the steam. It was lighter than the fog, the lantern swinging in the breeze and—

And Ryan Haywood was buck-naked.

Ray almost dropped his spyglass, his throat tight because he wasn’t exactly prepared to see the Sheriff in the nude. Ray swallowed, practice and instinct keeping his hands steady. There was a small hot spring and the Sheriff hung his clothes on the same branch on his lantern. His back was to Ray and he was softer looking than Ray would have initially thought. 

The Sheriff took off his hat last, and Ray’s eyes widened because he hadn’t realized how long Haywood kept his hair. He untied it and let it fall down past his shoulders. Ryan turned, his expression peaceful as he crouched down to test the water before immersing himself in it. 

Ray watched as Ryan briefly went under the water, surfacing to push his wet hair back and away from his face. He grinned and Ray’s breath rushed out of him because it took _years_ off the Sheriff’s face. Ryan flopped back into the spring with a splash, his laugh echoing in the woods. 

Suddenly Ray was filled with such anger—because how could Ryan allow himself only this moment to relax? Had his unrequited love for Lindsay really weighed on his conscious that much? 

Fuck that. Life was too fucking short to be chained down by “what-ifs.” 

Ryan surfaced, wiping water from his eyes and leaning back against the rocks. His lazy smile and hooded eyes were bizarre to see on the usually imposing figure. Ray kept watching, his chest tight. 

Hot steam continued to rise and the Sheriff leaned back, his legs splaying open—his right hand sliding under the water. Ray watched Ryan’s cheeks flush, and not just from the heat from the spring. His eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted, his tongue darting out to moisten them. Ray’s throat was tight, his clothes suddenly itchy as he kept watching Ryan take his sweet time jerking himself off.

Ray… he always rushed, never sure when he’d get a free moment and always on the move. 

It was always alien, watching Ryan lean back, his left hand traveling down over his face before slipping a few fingers into his mouth and sucking on them. Ray’s body throbbed with ever _suck_ and he didn’t have to look away to know that he was hard. His erection strained against his trousers and Ray felt dizzy as Ryan’s wet fingers started to circle his own nipples. 

Ryan’s lips were open and Ray knew he was making noise. Would he whimper? No, maybe he was a moaner… or a beggar, babbling until he was choked off with his own completion. Ray shifted in the tree, his cheeks hot and his cock heavy. He watched Ryan’s movement under the water gradually increase in speed, his head falling back, exposing his throat. 

“Oh God.” Ray’s spare hand pressed against his erection, hips rocking forward. The loud roar of blood, lust, and shame was a cacophony in his ears as he rolled his hips against his hand, making sure to keep his spyglass steady. “Sweet Jesus—”

Ray’s eyes forcibly slid shut as he shuddered, finally turning away from the lewd display before him as he came in his pants. 

He took time to catch his breath, the flush in his cheeks fading and the come in his underwear cooling. Ray lifted his spyglass back up to see that Ryan was also out of breath, his eyes glassy. Ray watched until Ryan got out of the water. That was Ray’s cute, and he quickly and quietly retreated, back to Achievement City, back to the wall, and back to the Sheriff’s guest bedroom. 

Ray kicked off his soiled pants and dove under the covers. He felt sleep tugging at him as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he struggled to stay awake. He heard the front door open, and soon his own door. Ray’s heart pounded in his chest, and he fell asleep waiting for the door to close. 

::::

Watching another man, one who was widely regarded as intimidating and gruff, jerk off blissfully unaware really added a new perspective to them. 

Ray left from a late shift at the saloon to see Ryan (it was nearly impossible to keep thinking of him as _The Sheriff_ after seeing him in such a private and passionate moment) tying up shipments for the next day. 

“You think you’re pretty good at rope, huh?”

It wasn’t that Ray avoided Ryan, but he was aware he was being watched and that Ryan was trying to figure him out. It was natural for Ray to keep his distance. So when he kicked dirt in Ryan’s direction, hands in his pockets and slouching casually like it wasn’t strange at all, Ryan was understandably surprised. 

His shocked expression was brief, melting away into smugness. 

“I know I’m good with rope.” 

The curl of his lips was a mere imitation of the carefree grin Ray had glimpsed through his spyglass nights ago. It was like a drop of water when you wanted to swim in the ocean. Ray frowned, his expression over-the-top-naïve. 

“I dunno, man. I think I’d be able to get out of those.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

Ryan stood up, sauntering over to Ray until Ray had to lift his head up so he could meet those blue eyes. Ray grinned.

“Definitely.” 

Minutes later Ray was sitting cross-legged on Ryan’s kitchen floor, his hands behind his back as Ryan quickly tied him up. He worked fast and made sure Ray was bound tight but not enough to cut off the circulation. He stood, coming around and sitting in one of his chairs.

A long silence stretched between them. Ray was careful not to make a sound as he gently manipulated the rope. After a few moments, Ryan spoke. 

“How do you like it here so far?”

Ray shrugged. 

“It’s nice. People here… don’t seem to worry about much.” Ray thought of Tina, her good-hearted frustrated worry about him. “I’d like to stay.”

His thoughts drifted. Ray knew people in Achievement City. Griffon made him a necklace with a wooden charm of a pistol. Lindsay would bring Ray half a loaf of bread on Saturdays, and Michael and him had a slew of inside jokes. Over the months Ray had acclimated… and he hadn’t felt restless once. 

For the first time in his life, Ray felt truly calm. 

He forced his gaze back on Ryan because Ray truly wanted to stay in once place for the first time in his entire life. 

Ryan’s expression was blank for a while and he took a deep breath before allowing himself a slight smile. It was so small but it still made Ray’s tongue dry up in his mouth. 

“Geoff will be happy to hear it. I think you’re his favorite.” Ray grinned. Ryan looked away, scratching the tip of his nose. “If you manage to get free in time maybe you’ll be able to join me for dinner.”

“Oh this?” Ray stood, the ropes falling off him like water. “I’m good, thanks though.”

It was dangerous, goading Ryan like this. Ray was addicted to the look of pure shock and awe. He’d do almost anything to see it on Ryan’s face. Ryan’s blue eyes were piercing, his lips pulling back exposing teeth. 

“Not bad.” Ryan pulled out a chair. “Sit and eat.”

Ray’s grin just wouldn’t quit. 

“Yes, sir.”

It became an unspoken dinner ritual that Ray would come home, get on the floor, and allow himself to be bound. He’d get anxious at the end of his shift, running back to Ryan’s house. He’d say nothing as he he’d get on the floor and wait for Ryan to get his hands on him. 

His fingers were firm and sure, directing Ray to where needed to be. The memory of that touch would linger with Ray when he retired to bed. Ray knew it was perverse, craving that kind of touch from Ryan. Every time the rope tightened it made Ray’s heart and cock twitch. 

“I’m not going to go easy on you tonight.” Ryan’s hand rested on the back of Ray’s neck and Ray bit his lip so he didn’t shiver. “If you give up you just let me know.” 

Ray snorted.

“Like hell.” 

Each night Ryan’s rope work would get more and more complex. Ray was a little unsure because Ryan had outdone himself. The rope crisscrossed across his back and chest to make a star shape that then connected his ankles to his neck. Ray swallowed, the feeling of rope against his neck familiar and unnerving. 

Ryan enjoyed his dinner alone that night as Ray struggled on the floor. Ryan polished off his meal with a glass of milk just as Ray freed his shoulder but not without choking himself a little. Ryan watched, silent and smirking. Ray was about to tell him to wipe his smug grin off his face when there was a knock on the door. 

Ray fell forward out of shock, hitting the floor hard and his teeth piercing his lower lip. 

“Ow, fuck!” 

Ray blinked away tears as Ryan stood, torn between freeing Ray and going to the door. That was when the knocking continued and a familiar voice cut through. 

_“Ryan, open up, it’s Lindsay!”_

Well, that helped finalize Ryan’s dilemma. Ryan was gone, running to the door as Ray groaned on the floor, blood dripping out of his lip and tongue. He shimmied his arm free and grimaced at the sweat that clung to his forehead. His chin scraped against the wood flooring as he struggled to free his other shoulder. 

The front door opened. 

“Good evening, Lindsay. Is everything all right?” 

Ray tilted his head toward the doorway. He could see Ryan’s back, his tight shoulders. Ray wondered how many years piled back onto his face now that he was visited by his unrequited love. It made Ray’s chest burn and he shoved his other shoulder free with a nauseating _pop_. 

“Yes, yes—we just—um, we didn’t want to wait.” Her excitement was bubbling like a brook, drawing in all listeners. Ray slowed, stilling his throbbing shoulder as Lindsay took a deep, bouncing breath. “I’m pregnant!”

Ray felt like the ground had fallen away from him. His throat tightened as he roughly pulled the rope from his neck, making sure to keep his scarf undisturbed. He could only imagine the shock and pain that Ryan must be—

“That’s _wonderful_!” 

Ray watched as Ryan lifted Lindsay into the hair, his carefree grin in full force like it had never left. Ray stopped, his hands stilling on the rope that bound his ankles. Their embrace was tight, intimate—

“Yeah, yeah, look I’m freezing my balls off can we come in?” Michael’s voice cut through before he slid past Lindsay and Ryan. Ray had time to blush before Michael saw him, his eyes widening. “Uh, what the fuck, Ryan?”

Lindsay slid from Ryan’s grasp as he turned, sheepish.

“Sorry, we were um—” Ryan’s face fell. “Why are you bleeding?”

“I fucking fell.” Ray grimaced. “Sorry, Lindsay, please excuse my language.” 

“Please.” Lindsay laughed; pulling a knife from under her dress and crouching down to swiftly cut Ray free. “I remember this knot configuration. Took me days to figure it out.”

Ray felt like he hadn’t been seeing the whole picture and now his eyes were struggling to keep everything in focus. Michael saw his shoulder, his expression twisted. 

“Christ, you dislocated your shoulder. Let me set that for you.” He placed one hand on either side of the aching appendage. “Three, two—”

With a fleshy snap and pop, Ray’s shoulder was back in place. He choked, his eyes squeezing shut because _fuck_ it hurt, but he managed to swallow the shout that tried to push past his lips. He wiped blood from his mouth and lips with the back of his wrist. 

Ray glanced up at Michael and Lindsay, at their now clasped hands and pink cheeks. 

“Congratulations.”

Michael grinned. 

“Thanks, man.”

The four of them sat at the kitchen table, Lindsay talking animatedly about the endless world of potential baby names. Ray felt lightheaded because he knew—he _knew_ Ryan loved Lindsay. It was a _fact_. 

As Ryan laughed, easy and free, Ray wondered if he’d gotten the type of love wrong. 

::::

Dawn broke and Ray was opening the saloon himself. Geoff had finally asked Griffon out after months of Ray pushing him to do just _do it_. Ray had a feeling Geoff would need the extra time to be presentable the following morning. The dew clung to the leaves and the air still had a chilly bite to it. 

Lindsay was starting to show and Michael was over the moon, boisterous in every aspect of his life. 

Three times a week Ray would sneakily follow Ryan out beyond the wall and to the hot spring. Ray would take his usual spot in the tree and watched Ryan pleasure himself, Ray following Ryan’s lead most nights. If Ray were younger he’d be crippled by shame. 

Ray shrugged it off because hell, you only live once. 

It was well into the afternoon before Geoff came into work with a dopey smile and mussed hair. Ray smiled knowingly as a small rush of people came into the bar. Lindsay’s Shadows came in, all laughter and playful roughhousing. 

“Top of the morning, Geoff! You look refreshed!” 

Matt cackled with his buddies as Geoff flipped all three of them off with a grin. Ray poured them all some bourbon, glancing out at the rest of the bar to do a quick estimate of how busy it was going to be.

Ray’s heart slowed when he saw Chris Demarais sitting at a table. He had a beard now, but there was no mistaking who was sitting in the saloon looking uneasy. But it wasn’t Chris’s face that made Ray’s blood run cold.

It was Lester Cogg, Al Worthington’s right hand man who shared the table with Chris, his dirty hand on his shoulder and foul breath in his ear. Ray would never forget Lester’s bright blonde hair and scarred face. 

_Tina had done her best,_ Ray thought as he quickly pulled out his pistol from its holster, _but Hell will keep knockin’ at my door._

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Publishing the second chapter now. I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope y'all enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think!


	3. The Quick Tempered Doctor and the Firebird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had only been two days since that night when—when Lindsay Tuggey had entered his life with chilling confidence and his own weapon aimed at his chest.

“If you continue your love-sick sighing I will stuff rags into your mouth.” Michael startled, his cheeks flushing as he realized his hands had been hovering over dried herbs instead of carefully measuring them out like he’d been told. His glasses slid down his noise as Burnie chuckled, shaking his head. When Burnie glanced his way the doctor’s eyes glimmered with mischief. “Just what exactly transpired down here before I was woken? Do I need to defend your virtue, Michael Jones?” 

“Oh, fuck off, Burnie.” Michael hated how his cheeks burned scarlet. “She took my gun and pointed it back at me, you saw that.”

“Yes, but did she tamper with your _other_ pistol, that’s what I’m asking—”

Burnie dodged the journal Michael flung his way. While most doctors would fire their apprentice’s for such a lapse of judgment, Burnie merely cackled. Michael huffed, pulling at his own hair and cursing his own traitorous mind. 

It had only been two days since that night when—when Lindsay Tuggey had entered his life with chilling confidence and his own weapon aimed at his chest. Michael knew he’d never forget her fearless stare, even when he’d thought her to be a man before she tore her hat off and let her long red locks come tumbling down. 

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn’t sighs of boyish infatuation that tormented him. Michael grew out of petty crushes. No—no it wasn’t _just_ her red hair and unforgettable face. It was how she effortlessly mounted her horse, fitting her hat back on with a determined frown all for a man in her life—one she _laughed_ at the notion that he was her husband. She’d traveled all that way, a woman alone in the dead of night, and didn’t hesitate to make the same journey without stopping to rest. Most would write her off as mad, destined for death by bandits never to complete her mission. 

Even though he had no proof, Michael knew Miss Lindsay Tuggey made it to her destination that night. Hopefully she made it in time to save that man’s life. 

“Are you going to ask me where Miss Tuggey lives?” Michael turned, staring at his admittedly eccentric mentor. Burnie rolled his eyes. “Ask me so I can force you to take a long weekend. Perhaps if you take a ride to her town you’ll finally rid yourself of that irksome sighing.”

Michael loved and loathed his crazy mentor all at once. Michael took off with the exuberance of a schoolboy—taking enough money for two nights at an inn. 

The journey was long, but during the day it was a lot less intimidating. He wondered what thoughts were going through Lindsay’s mind in the cold, dark night. Could he have made that same trip? Would he have shown the same cutthroat bravery? 

He had so many questions and when an older woman answered the door Michael had knocked on, he had to exercise his patience so he didn’t just blurt them all out like a fool. He quickly removed the formal hat he burrowed from Burnie. 

“Hello, Ma’am. I was told that… Miss Lindsay Tuggey lives here.”

“You are correct.” She had faded auburn hair and a small smile, one that did remind him of Lindsay. “And who are you?” 

“I’m Michael Jones, ma’am, I’m studying under Doctor Burns. Lindsay came to us three nights ago, I wanted—I wanted to see how her journey back was.”

The words felt heavy and false. Michael couldn’t be honest, not until Lindsay could answer him for herself. The woman’s expression softened briefly and she opened the door.

“I’ll let Lindsay know she has company. My husband and I just sat down for tea, I’m sure we can find an extra glass.”

Michael forced a smile. Burnie was good at being charming. Michael was well aware he was about as charming as broken glass. He sat next to the man Michael assumed was Lindsay’s father. He had a strong name and handshake, but Michael’s nerves were so high strung he couldn’t remember much except the sound of stairs creaking and everyone in the room turning to see—

Lindsay Tuggey in a peach colored dress. Her eyes, those aqua blue and green eyes, widened she saw him. Michael might have felt smug at the blush that spread down her cheeks and neck if he wasn’t equally as flushed.

He struggled to stand and extend his hand, nearly knocking over his tea.

“Good morning, Miss Tuggey. I was hoping to catch you before you went about your day.”

He saw her lips twitch at his clumsy attempts at being prim and proper. He suddenly wished he never left Burnie’s house. At least there he could speak freely. 

She smiled, and that alone chased away any thoughts about returning to Burnie’s. 

“How about we sit outside so we don’t waste this nice weather?”

Michael couldn’t have moved faster to join Lindsay out on the porch. She closed the door and her smile faded, her face slack. The bright summer sunlight made her dress glow. He vaguely heard her apologize, but he couldn’t focus on her words.

She was so different. This Lindsay was delicate and modest in her stunning dress. If Michael had seen her elsewhere he would have stared at her—how could he not? Michael did stare for those reasons, yes, but also because this was the same woman who had ripped his gun out of his hands and turned it back on him without hesitation. This was the woman who’d rode away in the dead of night without a second thought. 

His staring did not go unnoticed. 

“What is it?”

Michael snapped his eyes back to her face and laughed, finally letting his shoulders unwind. 

“Sorry. I’m just not used to seeing you in women’s clothing.” 

The laughter that left Lindsay’s lips at his blunt excuse sounded like bells made of sand. It was rough and curt, a lot like Michael. He laughed with her, giddy and relaxed because the past few days were ludicrous. She introduced herself even though she didn’t need to, and Michael swore aloud when he shook her hand. It was an awful habit, but when her smile widened as his fingers ran over her knuckles he couldn’t berate himself too much.

Her hands lingered in his and he only let them slide away when he cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. 

“And, uh, what about the man this was all for? Did you get to him in time?”

Lindsay’s responding smile was blinding. 

“Yes, I did. Would you like to meet him? We’d have to wait until after dinner but I’m sure he’d love to meet the man who helped get his cure.” She winked. “And the one who pointed a gun at me.” 

Michael sputtered. 

“You quickly reversed our places—”

“Well you started it!”

She threw her head back; her red hair falling away from her face and Michael’s breath was stolen from him. She stood, spinning on her heels, still giggling. Michael jumped up to follow her onto the lawn. If he smiled any wider he was sure his face would crack in half. 

“I wouldn’t need to use a weapon if someone hadn’t snuck in like a criminal—” Michael had to move quickly to avoid the slap meant for his shoulder. “Whoa, watch it, asshole, not all of us are fearless warriors!” 

They shared a brief chase through the grass, Michael not caring when his hat flew off his head. Lindsay held her skirt in her hands, flying off and yelling back over her shoulder at the door. 

“Mother, Mister Jones will be staying for dinner!” 

Michael tripped at the words, falling hard onto the grass. He just knew he was going to have stains on his trousers. He looked up at her, bewildered. 

“I am?”

“Of course.” Lindsay’s impish smile gleamed at him… Michael wondered how she was unmarried. It boggled his mind as she offered him her hand. He took it, letting her pull him to his feet. “It’s the least I can do for a former captive.” 

Michael felt drunk, smiling like a fool and not willing to stop. 

::::

Lindsay’s “man” was named Ryan and… Michael was certainly invested in meeting the mysterious figure. When the name came up over dinner the smiles on her parent’s faces were not typical. They weren’t warm and bright for a family friend filled with fond memories. 

If anything, their expressions were weary, weathered but loyal. 

The sun sank below the horizon, stars twinkling one by one in the sky. Lindsay led Michael out of her home and down the road. She was quiet, an easy-going curl to her lips as she stopped along a fence surrounding a neighboring farm.

“We’ll have to climb over this.”

“Here,” Michael swung his legs over the fence quickly and offered Lindsay his hands. “Wouldn’t want to rip that pretty dress.”

Lindsay rolled her eyes. 

“I’m sure that my dress is your main concern.”

Honestly, Michael just wanted an excuse to hold Lindsay hands again. Judging by her smirk she knew exactly what Michael’s motivation was. Her palms were soft and he couldn’t help but run his fingers over hers, savoring the feeling of her slender bones under his hands. She hopped down without hesitation and walked across the fields. 

“Are we supposed to be here?”

“I’m allowed.”

Lindsay said it without a trace of doubt. Michael matched her pace and soon came across a small shack. It was well lit inside and Lindsay’s smile widened as she knocked on the door. 

“Ryan, I’ve brought someone along for you to meet.” The door swung open and the first thought in Michael’s mind was: _Holy shit he’s tall_ and _handsome? Fuck_. Michael shook his hand and jumped at the rough calluses on his skin as Lindsay bumped against Michael. “He’s the one who pulled a gun on me when I went to get your medicine.”

“Hey, I thought you were a burglar! And I only had the upper hand for an instant.” Michael felt his neck prickle with heat and he took a deep breath, glancing up at Ryan. “You look good—healthy, I mean. I’m Michael Jones.” 

“Ryan Haywood.” Ryan’s eyes twinkled, like he wanted to laugh but was trying to do Michael a favor by not adding to his humiliation. “Come on, I’ve got some wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

With Ryan’s hand tugging on his wrist and Lindsay pushing on his back Michael had very little say in the matter. 

The shack was… cozy was putting it politely. A mattress was pushed up against the wall and a wobbly desk held a few clothes and a lantern. Michael only saw two chairs. Ryan pulled the blanket off his bed and spread it out over the wood flooring. He smiled up at Michael, sheepish.

“Sorry, I don’t have enough chairs, I hope you don’t mind the floor.”

“Nah, as long as you don’t mind wasting your wine on me.”

“It’s not a waste.” Ryan winked as Lindsay rummaged around Ryan’s table and found the wine. “It’s not every night Lindsay brings a _guest_ —”

Lindsay kicked Ryan’s leg, hard enough to make him wince. Her cheeks were scarlet and Michael felt like he was missing something. Lindsay sat down first and Michael followed suit. Ryan was last, retrieving a corkscrew. 

“Hope you don’t mind going straight from the bottle.” Lindsay took the first sip. She smiled at Michael, handing him the bottle. “I promise I don’t have cooties.” 

Michael snickered.

“You’re talking to a man who studies how germs can kill me.” He took a slug of wine. “ _Cooties_ are the least of my problems.”

He passed the bottle to Ryan. Usually when Michael found himself to be an interloper the conversations would be awkwardly one-sided and Michael would end up sitting to the side planning out his study regime for the next week while the others talked the night away. Lindsay and Ryan were not the typical companions. 

Their ease and comfort around each other was obvious to anyone with working eyes. They both leaned in close when Michael talked about growing up in New Jersey. Stories of the past faded into Michael and Lindsay comparing their pronunciation of certain words and giggling. Michael never felt a stab of jealousy towards Ryan, it was hard to when Lindsay kept touching his knee to get his attention, licking her lips and grinning as she told a story that had the tips of Ryan’s ears turning red and had Michael doubling over in laughter. 

“I thought he was going to faint, he was white as a sheet!” 

Ryan cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing on Lindsay. He opened his mouth but Michael interrupted him. 

“Here, so we can all be fair, let me tell you about the time my brothers and I had to run two miles home.” Michael smirked. “Naked.”

It was always a thrill to make someone laugh, and that night was no exception. As Michael weaved together the details and raunchy humor he had Ryan out of breath and wiping his eyes. Lindsay was flushed, giggling helplessly and leaning against Michael. Maybe it was the laughter, maybe it was the wine… but Michael felt a joy within himself that he hadn’t felt since leaving New Jersey. 

Michael checked his pocket watch after what felt to be minutes—but what turned out to be over five hours. It was after midnight.

“Holy shit, it’s nearly one in the morning—I should—Lindsay, you should—”

Ryan stood, brushing off his knees before helping Lindsay up. Michael didn’t have much of a chance to continue before Ryan grabbed his wrists and had him on his feet in a matter of moments. Lindsay stretched, yawning. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll walk you to the Inn.”

Michael swallowed, his throat clicking. He nodded, not asking why her parents hadn’t come after her. Was she always allowed to stay out whenever she pleased or… or was that night a special occasion?

His head buzzed, the whimsy of wine fading away into grating nervousness. He needed to say something clever; something charming that would make Lindsay want to see him again. Because Michael wanted to se her again… he felt like he wanted nothing more than to see her smile again, to make her laugh and share wine in the company of friends.

The three of them walked in the dark, silence washing easily between them. 

It wasn’t until they were on the Inn’s porch that Michael felt his throat clench, his hands sweating because he had to say something, _anything_ —

“Hey, it was great seeing you. I’d hoped I hadn’t given you a bad scare.” Michael almost jumped because Lindsay’s fingers trailed down Michael’s sleeves until they touched his wrists. “Did you have a good time?”

Michael couldn’t breathe because their fingers were weaving together. 

“Yes—y-yes, I had a… a fucking great time, Miss Tuggey.” Michael swallowed and he knew his cheeks were red, he could _feel_ it, and he couldn’t look away from her crooked smile and green eyes. “I’d love to see you again, if you wouldn’t mind—”

He couldn’t continue because he was being _kissed_. Her lips were soft and it was much too brief, he didn’t have time to fully register the feeling until she was pulling back, her eyebrows pushing together with concern.

“I hope that was okay, if that wasn’t what you were going for, I apologize.”

Michael laughed, a bit hysteric, before he pulled her in for another kiss. He gripped her arms, steadying them both. She whimpered and Michael felt a harsh throb pass through his entire body, which only worsened when her tongue licked past his lips. Her fingers were in his curls and her teeth—her _teeth_ gently bit Michael’s lower lip and _oh God_ she was going to kill him, but what a sweet death it would be—

“Ahem.” Michael leapt back because holy _fuck_ Ryan was still there. Michael had completely forgotten. Lindsay chuckled breathily, licking her bruised lips. Ryan smirked. “I hate to interrupt you, Lindsay, but your parents are already crawling out of their skin waiting for you. If we walk slowly your lips won’t be as red by the time you get home.” 

“Right.” Lindsay never glanced away from Michael. “Thanks, Ryan.”

Michael swallowed. 

“Yeah, thanks, Ryan.” 

Lindsay tucked some of her beautiful red hair behind her ear and she leaned in. This kiss was gentle, slowly melting into something promising. Her fingers brushed the back of his neck right as she playfully swiped her tongue across his. Michael moaned, high and unabashed because he was helpless in her hands. When she pulled away he whispered, “No, come back.”

She kissed his cheek quickly before jumping out of reach. 

“I can’t. I have to go home.” She said it disdainfully, which helped very little but he appreciated the thought. Lindsay drew in a quick breath, smiling at him wolfishly. “I _would_ like to see you again, Mister Jones.” 

“Thank fucking God.” Michael relaxed. “And none of that ‘Mister Jones’ shit. Just call me Michael.” 

People rarely become aware of something important happening in their lives at the very moment of its occurrence. It is mostly upon refection that such realizations are made. Not so, for Michael. He knew this night would be the start of something fantastic, teasing, and gorgeous. He knew that _Lindsay Tuggey_ was important. Lindsay smiled like she could hear his thoughts and agreed. 

“Very well, Michael, only if you call me Lindsay.” 

With a quick wave, Lindsay turned and walked to Ryan. Ryan tipped his hat to Michael, winking before leading Lindsay back down the road. Michael was left grinning like a maniac, his lips red and aching. Oh how he _ached_ …

::::

There were times when Michael sincerely missed New Jersey. Even though there were plenty of people who liked to make fun of his “accent,” Burnie being the leader of that dumb brigade, Michael wouldn’t have changed it for the world. 

He was from a poor town from an even poorer family, which was one of the reasons why he spoke and swore the way he did. His Ma never bothered to soften reality for him and his brothers. 

_“Life isn’t gonna go fucking’ easy on you. Michael. You see an opportunity, you take it, no hesitation.”_

Michael had been paid under the table at the local ambulance, a horse and carriage that visited macabre scenes in hopes of saving doomed souls. All Michael’s experience with stitching and wound treatment he learned in the back of that carriage… which is how Burnie came to find him, hands and arms covered in blood sitting next to the man who’d barely survived. 

_“Are you Michael Jones?”_

Michael remembered seeing Burnie’s rotund form and how all he could imagine were the man’s insides. Michael had choked, wiping his face with his dirty hands. 

_“Who the fuck is askin’?”_

It wasn’t exactly a great first impression. Burnie had gotten Michael to a basin of water and wiped off his hands and face until Michael felt less blurred around the edges and more like a real person. Burnie had asked what medical school he’d gone to that taught him how to sew, suture, and direct flesh with a steady hand. 

Michael had never laughed harder in his life. 

That night Michael quit his job working for twenty-five cents a week at the ambulance and became Burnie’s apprentice. 

“Hey.” Michael jerked awake, a page of his book stuck to his face. Burnie peered down at him from above his glasses. “I thought I told you to go to bed.”

“Yeah, well, I have to study.” Burnie narrowed his eyes. Michael forced his fatigue away. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

Burnie huffed but shuffled up the stairs, his robe billowing behind him. After two years, Burnie told Michael it was time to take the exam of all exams. He clapped his hands on Michael’s shoulders with a grin and said, “You’re gonna be a doctor, kid,” as if Michael wasn’t going to have a panic attack. Because what if he blew it all? What if he’d done all this for nothing? 

He’d try looking at Lindsay’s letters but it just added to the pressure. He wanted to succeed, for himself and for her. He wanted to be worthy to love her.

“Fuck.” Michael’s throat was tight, hours fading into days because all his medical journals were starting to look the same, his vigorous notes becoming unreadable blurs. “ _Fuck_.” 

Michael thought he was alone but he hadn’t realized Burnie had been watching him. If he had been, he wouldn’t have been surprised at Burnie’s boisterous nature the next morning, suitcases packed and a flamboyant green top hat on his head. Michael came out of his study-induced haze long enough to narrow his eyes. 

“What the hell, Burnie?” 

“Ah, the dead has arisen!”

Michael blinked. 

“Why are you dressed like an asshole?”

Burnie let out a jolly laugh, his cheeks pink as he stroked his beard. 

“I am going on a vacation, Michael. For five days, though I expect my return will be in the evening. I trust you’ll be fine by yourself.” Michael rolled his eyes because obviously, but then the front door opened and Burnie’s gleeful smile suddenly made sense. Lindsay walked in wearing a stunning navy dress and petticoat. “Lindsay! Good evening, I’d love to stay and chat but I have to depart on my long awaited vacation! So long!”

Burnie pushed past her, still cackling, and Lindsay covered her face with her hand briefly.

“Ah, Doctor Burns had offered to be a chaperone for my week visit. I see now that he is… a trickster.”

“I think you meant to say a lying son of a bitch.” Michael stood and Lindsay still kissed him even though his letters had been too brief and he looked like a slob. “I’m sorry, I’ve been… I mean, I wanted to visit more but I—”

“You were studying.” Lindsay smiled, kissing his cheek, then below the ear, and trailing down his neck. “Doctor Burns wrote me. He said you were worried too much about the test that you’ll have no trouble passing.” 

Michael’s knees shook; his fingers clinging at Lindsay’s hips. 

“You’re distracting me.”

He could feel her smile against his neck.

“I know.” She pulled back, playful smirk gone. “But I’ll stop. You have to study.”

Michael swallowed, his throat tight.

“You won’t mind?” Lindsay shook her head. “And it doesn’t bother that Burnie isn’t here to, um, chaperone?” 

“No.” Lindsay took a glance at the medical journals, flipping through them. “I trust you.”

Michael thought that after dating Lindsay for almost a year he’d stop being so completely enamored, that eventually the surprises would fade. His heart clenched because he was so happy with how wrong he’d been. Lindsay sat on Michael’s bed, reading while Michael took notes. After a few hours she replaced his cup of tea with a hot one… he almost blurted out a clumsy, “I love you.” He barley swallowed it. 

He wanted the moment to be perfect. He wanted to be a doctor with a respectable practice. 

“You… Lindsay, you’re a fuckin’ dream, you know that, right?”

Lindsay paused, glancing up from an open journal, the one full of Michael’s anatomy sketches. 

“I… uh, thank you.” She shifted in the bed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know this test is really important, but can you take a quick break?”

“Sure.” Michael closed his book. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just really want to kiss you.”

Well, Michael wasn’t going to exactly protest that desire. 

Lindsay was hardly his first kiss. Michael went to various socials where on the walk home a few playful pecks would be exchanged. Michael was sure Lindsay did the same thing. Michael never minded kissing, but he’d never been over the moon about it. He figured he was probably just wired differently than his brothers who would go on and on about the feel of their girl’s lips. 

Michael could get lost in Lindsay’s kisses. They were never monotonous or awkward. There were times when it felt like she aimed to pull him apart one thread at a time with just her tongue and teeth. Michael sucked on her tongue and the _sound_ Lindsay made—a mixture of breathy surprise and thick lust—Michael felt tingly and hypersensitive all over. 

He was hard, devastatingly hard, and in any other situation he would have had the presence of mind to be mortified that he was grinding down against Lindsay’s quivering thigh. She rocked her hips up, blue-green eyes dark and lips red. Michael wanted to do all the things he’d read about in journals and faded excerpts of erotica. 

Lindsay quickly reversed their positions so she was sat atop him. Michael’s throat bobbed, his glasses askew and slightly fogged. She looked like a goddess, her hair messy and her eyes bright and trained on him. Michael swallowed loudly.

“I love you.” His mouth betrayed him. Michael covered his face with his hands, grimacing. “Fuck, _fuck_ , I wanted it to be romantic, it’s not just because you’re on top of me, Lindsay, I _swear_ —I was—I was going to make it perfect…”

Michael peeked through his fingers to see Lindsay giggling, her hand over her mouth. 

“Oh my God, Michael.” She bent down, the slide of her body against his making Michael tense up as she spoke against his parted lips. “I love you too.” 

The following kisses were heated and rushed. In the darkness of Michael’s room, Lindsay’s skin was like satin and Michael swallowed hard, wanting to start everywhere at once. 

“I, uh, I’ve only ever read about this in medical journals.” 

Michael flushed all down his body, slightly uncomfortable with his own partial nudity. His modesty was forgotten as soon as Lindsay’s fingers began to pop the buttons off her dress one by one—with each small exposure of skin Michael’s throat tightened with a vicious throb. 

“You’re staring.”

Michael nodded, his eyes darting up to Lindsay’s face, his voice cracking. 

“How could I not?” Michael sat up so they shared the same air, his fingers gently trailing down Lindsay’s neck, collarbone, and sternum, smirking at the goose bumps that sprang up in his wake. “You want to know why I study so hard, Lindsay?” She nodded, bumping their noses together. “I study hard so… so I can be better. I want to be better, to be a doctor, to have a good life… and I want you in it.” Michael smiled through the nerves, his hands on Lindsay’s trembling shoulders. “I don’t… I’ve never needed a partner before you, Lindsay.”

“You have me.” Her voice was admirably steady as her fingers carded through his hair. “You have me for as long as you want me, Michael.” 

They didn’t have to say the formal words to know that their vows were mutual. Michael’s fingers folded over Lindsay’s, his lips on her ear. 

“Good. Because I _want_ you, Lindsay. So badly I can’t focus, I can only think about kissing you,” he swallowed, his hands moving to her bunched up skirts, “and things that aren’t _just_ kissing.”

Lindsay squirmed, pulling closer to him as he kissed her neck. 

“Good. It’s not just me, then.” Oh how he _loved_ her. Her thighs hugged his hips and Michael was dizzy with the pressure she was putting on his cock. “You have medical journals and I have gossip and French erotica. I’m sure the two of us can figure it out.” 

She let her dress fall open, exposing her breasts to Michael’s eager lips and clumsy hands. They never stripped their bottoms. Michael didn’t need to, not with his lips kissing Lindsay’s chest and her hips rocking against his. 

Lindsay drove him wild, his grip on her hips firm as lewd promises spilled from his mouth. He would give anything to have her scream for him. Each swear made Lindsay’s legs tighten around him until she was shuddering, whispering, “Michael, oh _God_ , Michael—” over and over again. His fingers crept up her skirts and Michael’s voice was hoarse as he shyly admitted, “Lindsay, I love you—”

He was falling with her, her voice cracking, getting higher and breathier—

::::

New Jersey weather could be a proper bitch when it wished to be, and the night of Michael’s return it chucked up a storm. He only hoped that Lindsay’s caravan had been delayed enough to miss it. Michael swore as he crossed the dirt road only to step in a freezing pile of slush.

“Aw fuck!” 

Michael shook his foot, grimacing at how his clothes were soaked. The ramshackle rows of houses were lit with candles and one of the doors opened. His oldest brother Franklin stuck his head out. 

“Michael?” Franklin rushed out, bringing Michael into a half hug half headlock. “You son of a bitch, you fuckin’ took your time getting’ here!” 

Michael and him wrestled as his younger brother ran out, all long limbs and curls. He hugged like all the Jones’ more tackle than embrace. 

“Jesus, Andy, I think you cracked my fuckin’ ribs.” Michael returned with his own affectionate shove before turning to Franklin. “Is Ma still awake?”

“You know I am.” Sure enough, his Ma stood in her nightclothes with blankets wrapped around her shoulders. “Come on, get your ass outta the streets you’ll wake up the whole damn neighborhood!”

The floorboards creaked in all the places Michael remembered and his room was just as he’d left it. He dropped his bags off before climbing down the stairs back to the kitchen. Without a word his Ma poured him hot tea.

“Are you ready?” Her voice was soft, which meant what was about to be said was actually important. The Jones family was infamous for being loud, which is why when they were quiet people knew to shut the fuck up and listen. “Marriage is a big step.”

“I know, Ma.” Michael smiled, toothy and unabashed because he was getting married in just under a week. “I love her.” 

“Good.” His Ma smiled back. “That’s why you’re not scared.”

Michael’s smile fell, his shoulders tight. 

“I am scared. Not because of her.” If anything Lindsay was the one certainty in Michael’s life. Michael swallowed hard. “I’m gonna take a walk, Ma. I don’t need to worry you about it.” 

Michael ventured back out into the cold, hoping the freeze the fear of failure out of himself. He’d passed the exam, he was a fully licensed doctor, and in a few days he’d be married—

But he didn’t have a house or a practice of his own. Burnie had been a great teacher but he wasn’t up to sharing his practice. Burnie had history in his town and Michael’s bedside manner wasn’t… suited for the sleepy people of Bridgedale. Michael shoved his way into a bar. A few buckets were on the floor, catching drops of water from the ceiling. Randall, the barkeep as old as time, wiped down glasses. 

Typically, Michael would get a glass of the cheapest whiskey before leaving, but his plans chanced when he saw a familiar face sitting at the bar. 

“Ryan?” Sure enough, Ryan turned, looking just as wet and weary as Michael. Michael grinned, sitting next to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ryan’s smile was thin, but warm.

“I had to make sure I was on time for the big day.” Michael slung his arm around Ryan’s shoulder, but then heard the pained gasp that was pulled from behind Ryan’s teeth. Michael jerked back, his eyes narrowing. “Michael, wait—”

Michael grabbed Ryan’s coat lapel and yanked him off the barstool. 

“Sorry, Randall, can’t stay for a drink, got to take care of this asshole first.”

The old barkeep just huffed, not looking up from the glass he was cleaning. Ryan was taller and broader than Michael’s body. On any other day Ryan would have been an unshakeable mountain, but not that night when Michael herded him out of the saloon before shoving him down the street towards his house. He slammed the door open, calling out to his Ma. 

“Ma, I’ve met up with a friend in the bar. His idiocy is keeping him from being polite and shaking your hand. I’ve got to give him fucking stitches first.” Up the stairs they went to Michael’s childhood room. Michael pointed to his bed, snarling. “Sit.”

Ryan obeyed, his eyes wide. 

“Take it easy, it’s not a big deal—”

Ryan’s teeth clacked together, he snapped his jaw shut so fast when Michael leveled him wit ha heavy glare. Michael dug around in his bag, getting his equipment as Ryan unbuttoned his shirt with a sigh. Michael took one look at the deep bruises and gashes across his chest before grabbing the appropriate tools. 

Michael’s hands never shook, which was what the driver in the ambulance first noticed all those years ago. Through all the agonized screaming, blood, guts, and rocky roads while people clung to their life in the carriage—Michael’s fingers never so much as twitched, even when he was elbow deep inside another human body.

He felt the familiar chilled rush wash over him as he spread a salve over Ryan’s bruised and broken skin. Next came the needle and thread. 

Burnie was the king of bedside manner. Michael had seen him give a kid stitches and have the child laughing with no effort. Michael wasn’t charming; he didn’t soften his rough edges, so he just slid the needle into Ryan’s skin. Ryan flinched but didn’t make a sound. 

Most of the cuts were shallow enough that a simple bandage would do. The one large one was seven inches in length, an inch to an inch and a half in depth. Michael had seen men call for their mothers in hysteria at similar wounds. 

Ryan grunted, watching Michael finish sewing him up with a neat knot. Michael wiped sweat from his brow, and still his hands didn’t tremble. He tossed the needle aside, sitting on the floor. 

Some things in life were clear. Michael had a talent for putting people back together even when all hope seemed lost. He loved medicine, studying the human body in all its weakness and brilliance. He just wished his own future were as clear. 

“It’s a shame, you could have broken in your wedding present. 

Michael snapped out of his reverie to see Ryan meekly grinning. He gingerly reached for his knapsack, pulling out a heavy box. Inside were sterling silver medical instruments, flawless in craft and design. Michael’s throat was tight, and he punched Ryan in the shoulder. 

“I could have hugged you if you weren’t an idiot.”

Ryan laughed hard, clutching his stomach because of how his mirth pulled at his stitches. Later they’d go downstairs and Ryan would gratefully shake Michael’s Ma’s hand. They’d stay up until the witching hours of the morning, sharing silence. 

Michael wasn’t a fool. He knew that Ryan deliberately avoided talking about his whereabouts the rest of the year when he wasn’t spending summers in Lindsay’s town. He was alert, the first to react with reflexes even faster than Lindsay’s. Sometimes, during periods of peaceful silence, Ryan would get a dark shadow on his face that seemed to add years onto his life. 

That night was different. 

Ryan seemed light, exhausted but no longer afraid. Michael would bet serious money that whatever or _whomever_ had been weighing down Ryan’s spirit had been dealt with. 

The days passed on and Michael got married in the beat-up chapel in Woodbridge, New Jersey. His Ma cheered, his brothers cried, Burnie blew his nose obnoxiously after the vows, and even Ryan was seen dabbing at his eyes. 

Michael was married, and as Lindsay’s fingers squeezed his before they leaned in for their first kiss as husband and wife—he knew that they were going to be okay. 

::::

“Okay, Mrs. Jones, be honest, if you’d known about this day two years ago, would you have still married Michael?” 

Michael wanted to flip Geoff off but he shook too hard from the cold. He rode on the same horse as Lindsay, a red stallion she’d named Phoenix. His chest pressed against her back as she led and directed them. 

The caravan was put together quickly headed for a new town—a town so new that it had no name. Michael would be one of its first residents. When Geoff had stumbled into Burnie’s office with singed hair and a cock-eyed grin, Michael had initially wanted to kick the man’s ass to the curb—but apparently him and Burnie had a history. That, and Geoff had invaded Michael’s space and drawled, _“How would you like your own practice and house for your cute new wife?”_

Before Michael could grab Geoff by the collar and knock some of his smug teeth out, Burnie laughed, firmly pulling Michael out of Geoff’s range. With Burnie’s mixture of charm and cunning, he had Geoff spilling all his knowledge of the town. 

_“I’ve been contacted by the son of an old geezer I used to work with. His name is Griffon Ramsey, no relation, and he says he’s gonna start a town for anyone willing to brave the lawless wild to set up post.”_ That was when his wild blue eyes locked with Michael’s, and deep down; Michael knew he’d join this crazy quest. _“These type of people need an honest doctor, one with your kind of skill, Doctor Jones. The money and reputation you would gain would be more than worth the long journey west.”_

This is how Michael found himself in the middle of a spring blizzard. It was apparently quiet a rare occurrence for snow to fall so heavily, at least, that’s what Geoff kept saying. 

Lindsay cleared her throat, turning slightly toward Geoff, a few locks of red hair escaping her hood. 

“A little snow isn’t going to scare me or make me break my vows to my husband, Mister Ramsey. If you insist on making such disturbing claims… well, it would be a shame if Michael happened to overlook a frostbite treatment.” Michael didn’t have to look to know that Lindsay was aiming her most wolfish grin at Geoff. It made Geoff gulp loudly, his face ashen. “You wouldn’t want to lose any sort of appendage on this trip, would you, Mister Ramsey?”

As Geoff shivered, not from the cold, Michael threw his head back and laughed into the stinging snow. Lindsay laughed with him, silly and free. Michael tugged at her hood, twisting forward to catch her lips with his. He was too giddy for the kiss to be proper, but Lindsay didn’t mind his clumsy affection. 

The journey took over a month and of course during the last leg they were forced to stop and take shelter from the snow. Their caravan was small, just Geoff, Michael, Lindsay, and a young couple by the name of Miles and Arryn. Michael knew that Geoff was… not the most moral of men, it was apparent in everything about him. His familiarity with Miles and Arryn made Michael slightly wary. 

Lindsay dove under the furs and blankets in their shared tent, smiling up at Michael. The snow was already beginning to let up and Michael just wanted to get there already.

“Do you regret it?” Michael spoke in the dark, his head pillowed against Lindsay’s chest. “Marrying me, coming out to the unclaimed territories?” 

Before he stopped speaking Lindsay hit the back of his head. 

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” Michael knew that. Lindsay was fearless; she could truly direct her own fate… _yet she chose to remain at Michael’s side_. It was overwhelming to think about. We’ll have a whole new town to ourselves. No law, endless possibilities. We’ll be careful and it’ll be great.” 

Her fingers dug into his shoulders when she said “careful,” as if she would fight off the threats with her bare hands. 

Sure enough, the morning was warm and bright. They had a leisurely walk on their horses up the mountain, following no path, only Geoff’s directions. 

“Griffon sounds like such a fearless hunter.” Geoff gushed, his mustache twitching as his horse jogged up besides Michael and Lindsay. “Did I tell you how—?”

“He found this place himself, cutting down the trees and gathering the wood for houses right away?” Lindsay answered. 

“Or how he’s so in tune with nature he once rested with bears and wolves?” Michael finished. 

Geoff hushed, his cheeks pink. 

“Very funny, fuckers.” 

Michael grinned. 

“You know what else is funny? Your schoolboy crush on Griffon, a man you haven’t even met yet!” 

Even Miles and Arryn laughed at that. They reached the top of the mountain and the snow-covered ground stopped, a lush green valley stretching out before them. Michael’s eyes widened. Flowers stretched as far as he could see, the breeze sweet and light. Miles gulped loudly next to them. 

“Whoa.”

Arryn nodded. 

“Yeah.”

They were so close; Michael could feel it even without Geoff saying so. Arynn weaved flowers together into a crown that she placed on Miles’s head. Lindsay’s shoulders slumped, the only sign of her exhaustion. Michael touched her cheek with a daffodil. 

“Hey.” Her eyes blinked into focus and Michael smiled. “You okay? I can tell Geoff to take a break if you want.”

Lindsay shook her head.

“I want to see our home.”

Michael couldn’t agree more, and Lindsay kicked Phoenix’s sides, galloping much to Michael’s chagrin. He screamed, holding onto Lindsay for dear life. They raced forward, ahead of Geoff, and Michael lost his hat along the way. 

Really, they shouldn’t have rushed ahead without Geoff to guide them, but they were just so close. Michael clung to his wife, his glasses bouncing on his face as Lindsay slowed, her laughter quieting down. 

They were in a clearing and men were sawing down trees. In the middle was a lithe figure with hair so bright and blonde it glowed like a halo. Geoff, Miles, and Arryn caught up to them, out of breath and irate. 

“Hey, assholes, what did I saw about running ahead—”

The blonde figure turned, and it was a woman, her head shaved on one side and bright red lips pulling back into a smile. In her hand was an axe, and she rested it on her shoulder. She wore pants and a shirt that would be considered indecent for women—probably resulting in arrest. It was a white shirt that, at most, could be underclothes. But they were in lawless lands—and the woman grinned at Geoff. 

“Are you Geoff?” 

Geoff’s throat clicked loudly. His eyes were wide, running over the woman’s body quickly. 

“Oh, y-yeah.” 

His voice cracked like an adolescent and Michael smirked. The woman pushed her hair back with her hand before offering it out for Geoff to shake. 

“It’s great to finally meet you. I’m Griffon.”

Geoff made a weak sound as he shook her hand, like a “ahwuh…” and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he fell off his horse, headfirst into the dirt. 

::::

In a month the hidden town in the mountains had over fifty residents. It was then that a big meeting was called in the saloon. Michael sat in the back, Lindsay next to him. 

Many of the residents were… colorful, to put it mildly. They spit, they drank, they cussed, and once they were comfortable they weren’t afraid to boast about their exploits. 

By far the worst of these offenders were Matt, Jeremy, and Kdin—a rowdy trio who leered at anyone too close to them. Lindsay never flinched at their shouts but she did keep an eye on them. Michael admitted he was afraid. Unpredictable men were _dangerous_ men. He didn’t like their spontaneous fights with random bystanders or their lewd, dark shouts at women. 

They were in the crowd of people filing into Geoff’s bar. Their playful shoves had Michael falling into Lindsay, and she grabbed him, glaring at them.

“Hey, assholes, watch where you’re going.”

The short one, Jeremy, giggled with flushed cheeks.

“And what are you going to do about it, woman?” Michael bristled and Lindsay’s hand went discreetly went into her purse as Jeremy looked back to his companions. “Doctor Jones’s wife never has a nice thing to say to us, does she, boys?”

“She certainly does not,” Kdin chirped.

“You’re spot on, Jeremy,” Matt smirked. 

Jeremy smiled, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey.

“Mrs. Jones, move along. Let men be men, and pull the stick out of your ass.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless you’d like your husband to fight for y—”

The rest of his words were lost in Lindsay’s gleaming fist. Jeremy spun around, blood flying from his mouth. Lindsay’s right hand pulled back, revealing blood-splattered brass knuckles. Kdin moved for her first, full of rash and instinctual rage—and Lindsay put him down with a brutal punch to his nose.

The bar was silent as Kdin sobbed on the floor, Jeremy sniffling next to him. Lindsay glared at Matt. 

“We’ve all come here for a fresh start. We came to _achieve_ something out of this life. If you don’t start respecting this opportunity you will be joining your friends on the floor, do you fucking understand me?”

Lindsay’s words were all fire, her eyes bright. Michael was speechless, his blood fizzing in his veins. Matt crouched down, his eyes never leaving hers as he pulled Jeremy and Kdin towards him. Matt expression reflected fear, awe, and admiration. 

Michael would be lying if he said he’d never felt that. Watching Lindsay’s chilled stance and calm eyes—he was transported back to all those years ago when she had his own gun pointed at his chest. 

The moment was broken when Geoff slammed a bottle of whiskey on the floor. 

“It shall be declared—from this day forward this town will be known as Achievement City!” 

Laughter broke out among the bar and Lindsay flushed, sitting back down and smoothing out her skirts. 

As the night went on more important matters were discussed. There would be no police, which was adamant. Michael remained silent, not being one to stir up any trouble. 

The name Achievement City stuck.

Lindsay winced the next morning as Michael gently pressed a cold cloth to her bruised fingers and knuckles. Michael kissed her wrist, kneeling in front of her as she sat in his office. She sighed, her other hand gently threading through his hair. Michael hummed, resting his head against her thigh for a moment. 

“Where did you get those brass knuckles?”

Lindsay chuckled.

“They were a wedding present from Ryan.”

Michael laughed softly before standing. Lindsay embraced him from her chair, pressing her face against his stomach. Michael kissed the top of her head. 

“I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself in the process.”

Lindsay shrugged, leaning against him.

“In order to hurt people you’ve got to be prepared to hurt yourself.” She pulled back with a smile. “It was worth it. Those guys are assholes.”

“Oh yeah, _total_ assholes.”

They grinned at each other and suddenly there was a knock at the door. Outside, smiling sheepishly through the glass double doors were Matt, Jeremy, and Kdin. In their arms seemed to be about half a field of flowers. Michael unlocked the door and three men shuffled inside. 

“We’re… sorry.” Matt kept his eyes on Lindsay while Jeremy and Kdin morosely at the floor. “And… it’s pretty fucking dumb of us to harass the doctor’s wife, especially when one of us has a busted jaw and the other a broken nose.”

Michael rolled his eyes, grumpily motioning to the table. 

“The two of you sit up on there.” 

Lindsay took the flowers out of their hands, setting them up in vases by the window. She took out a daisy, twirling it in her fingers. 

“Maybe you three had something to prove out in the rest of the world. I’m not asking for your background. No one is. You don’t have to fight for a reputation. Keep acting the way are and you won’t be seen as gritty, just as a bunch of assholes.” 

Matt hung his head but Michael knew the words got through. 

::::

The flowers never stopped. Michael’s office was full of them and he’d be annoyed if he weren’t certain of Lindsay’s love. She’d laugh as Matt, Kdin, and Jeremy would scamper off every morning or walk with her, carrying her things from place to place—they truly earned their name Lindsay’s Shadows. They’d started to fall into a routine and things were almost perfect.

Michael knew that Lindsay would never ask for anything unless she needed it—if it were dire to her she would ask. If not, she’d make due. Michael sat down in Geoff’s back office, not touching the whiskey that was offered. Geoff maintained he was just a barkeep, but if Achievement City had to label someone as the Mayor, it would be Geoff. Geoff lazily slumped in his chair, twirling his moustache. 

“What’s eating away at you, Doc?” Michael’s shoulders rose up and Geoff winked at him. “Troubles in paradise? You can tell me, as bartender I listen to all woes.”

“Yeah, sure.” Michael grimaced. “I know we don’t want police. I know that. But I would—and I think most would feel safer with at least one person acting as the law.” Geoff puffed out his chest and Michael quickly continued. “Anarchy can’t last. All it takes is one moron to kill someone for some dumb reason—like taking too long to pour a drink—and the town will eat each other. We can’t live without consequence.”

Geoff was silent. Michael knew a part of him was being selfish on Lindsay’s behalf, but what Geoff didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, Geoff sighed, his eyes no longer hazy and carefree. 

“One. One man. And he will have no connection to the law outside of this city. He reports to himself and me. His main objective is to protect Achievement City and those in it.”

As long as Lindsay was in Achievement City, Michael knew the perfect man for the job.

“Deal. I have someone in mind, I’ll see if he’s available.”

With a tip of his hat, Michael excused himself and hurried home. Lindsay was waiting for him, watering the newest addition to their massive flower collection. Lindsay looked up, smiling in a way that never failed to weaken Michael’s knees. 

“Hey there. What did you need from Geoff?”

Michael briefly saw a newly opened letter—Lindsay’s correspondence with Ryan was sporadic, his replies would take a while. Michael took her hands into his, rubbing this thumb over her knuckles. 

“I convinced Geoff that we need at least one representative of the law. He requires that they have no connection to the law outside, that they would only protect those in Achievement City.” Michael grinned at Lindsay’s confused expression. “I told him I had someone in mind—a man brutal enough to live here who’d be invested in keeping everyone safe.” Lindsay’s lips parted, eyes wide as Michael blushed. “I thought it would be nice to have him close—”

Michael was cut off with kisses, struggling to keep his balance as Lindsay kissed his cheeks, nose, and forehead—until she finally reached his lips. Michael swayed on his feet, kissing down Lindsay’s neck before grabbing her wrist and pulling her upstairs toward the bedroom.

Lindsay sent out the letter the following morning. 

Three weeks later, Ryan Haywood rode into Achievement City.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Michael's chapter. This was a little tough, I hope Lindsay wasn't too... two dimensional. It's tough, making sure everyone gets the proper amount of screen time. Let me know what you think! All thoughts welcome!


	4. Wear the Lone Wolf's Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray told himself he couldn’t’ have heard Lester right—that he couldn’t have said the name that seemed to haunt the Worthington Gang. Some days the name would be whispered with a holy and terrified respect, the next it would be spit into the dirt.

Ray’s vision tunneled on Lester, his hands no longer steady but _trembling_ for the first time in his life. He heard Geoff’s silent gasp and felt the older man’s hand on his shoulder. Lindsay’s Shadows were quiet as Geoff spoke in a soft voice.

“Ray?” 

“Get the Sheriff.” Any second now Lester was going to turn his eyes to Ray and it would all fall apart. When Geoff didn’t move Ray tore his eyes away and shoved the barkeep. “ _Now_! Hurry!” 

Ray’s voice cracked and he knew he’d exposed himself. Geoff ran toward the door and Ray turned in time to lock eyes with Lester. Time slowed and Ray’s heart squeezed, his eyes burning as Lester sneered, his ugly face twisting into something revolting. Lester _knew_ —he could tell by Ray’s voice and posture that he was _terrified_. 

Lester always had a talent for sniffing out a person’s weakness. 

Hesitating wasn’t an option. Ray took the shot, forcing his aim to be sure and steady. Lester yanked Chris in front of him so that the bullet burrowed into Chris’s shoulder instead of Lester’s skull.

As people screamed and dove to the floor, Ray jumped over the bar, grabbing Matt’s shoulder in order to propel himself forward. Chris fell to the floor screaming. Ray only had eyes and ears for Lester—who was diving out of the window. 

Ray sped out of the doorway only to have a bullet burn past his cheek. He slammed back against the doorframe so hard it made the air catch in his lungs. A part of Ray hoped Ryan wouldn’t make it in time, that Ray’s shame wouldn’t have to be pulled into the daylight. 

The sun’s rays were punishingly bright and unrelenting. Ray didn’t have time to let his eyes adjust; he just squeezed off four shots in Lester’s general direction. Ray pressed his palms to his eyes, willing them to focus—and he heard a woman shout. Ray opened his eyes to see the local theater manager Arryn fall into the mud, her hair a mess as Lester pulled himself up on her horse. 

Ray only had one shot left. 

Arryn’s arms shook as she pushed herself up, her ankle red and swollen already—and Ray motioned to her frantically for her to stay down. She saw him—stilling her movements quickly. Ray’s relief was short lived as Lester’s lips pulled back to expose his teeth. 

“You’ve always been soft, Ray.” His words made Ray recoil and his hands shake. “Too soft—like spoiled fruit—just one poke,” Lester’s gun lowered to Arryn’s fierce face—her deadly glare never lessened, “and the whole thing just falls apart.” 

Though Arryn bravely looked at her attacker a few tears fell from her eyes. Ray knew her, knew her eccentric husband Miles. Ray swallowed. 

“Please, Lester.” Ray’s hands still trembled as he put his gun down in the dirt. He felt Lester’s smug grin before he saw it. “Please, let’s just figure this out between us. No one else needs to be involved.”

Lester’s grin widened and Ray let himself hope that just because his own trouble had finally found him that Achievement City didn’t suffer… that Ryan didn’t suffer. Lester laughed and Ray felt a cold dread wash down his spine as Arryn’s eyes flashed to his—terrified and desperate—

From far off, Ray heard the familiar thunder of hooves. The mix of relief and horror almost took out his knees. 

Lester’s gaze left Ray’s, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to focus on the approaching figure. Time seemed to slow as Lester stopped squinting, his face becoming ashen and pale—and his lips moved. Ray told himself he _couldn’t_ have heard Lester right—that he _couldn’t_ have said the name that seemed to haunt the Worthington Gang. Some days the name would be whispered with a holy and terrified respect, the next it would be spit into the dirt. 

_No way, no way—_

Ray was paralyzed as Lester yanked on Arryn’s reigns, sending the horse galloping towards the gate. Ray turned, his knees finally giving out. He fell to the dirt next to Arryn as Ryan’s black steed slowed. Ryan’s eyes were hard, his handsome face fierce and breathtaking. 

“Are you okay?”

Arryn nodded and Ray blurted out a “Yeah—” before Ryan was off, taking chase. 

“Arryn!” 

Miles came bounding out of the theater, half dressed in a costume with makeup on his face. His eyes were full of unshed tears as he pulled Arryn up, peppering her face with kisses. Arryn didn’t glance at Ray, she didn’t offer him a hand up.

Ray didn’t blame her.

He picked himself up, shakily brushing himself off and grabbing his gun back. Geoff huffed and puffed outside of the saloon, his cheeks red and his hands on his knees. He gave Ray a quick thumbs up. Ray barely managed to smile before pushing his way into the bar.

Michael was there, applying pressure on Chris’s wound. Lindsay stood by the broken window, her hand on her swelling stomach and her lips pressed into a thin line. She only relaxed when Ryan came riding back. 

He came in, led in by a less flushed Geoff. Ryan’s murderous expression was enough of a tell—Lester had gotten away. His gaze fell on Chris. 

“You’re coming with me.” His tone didn’t give any leeway, even Michael was silent. Ryan growled, his eyes sliding to Geoff. “Tonight we’re holding a town meeting, got it?”

Geoff saluted, his expression grim. 

“Aye, aye, captain.” 

Michael had time to quickly secure Chris’s bandages before Chris was being hauled away by the Sheriff. Ray felt numb, like he was floating above his own body as everyone else sprang into action. Geoff was herding everyone off the tables and chairs as Kdin, Jeremy, and Matt sprang to round up the rest of the town. Lindsay squeezed Michael’s shoulder before following Ryan. Griffon drew the blinds and Miles ran over, makeup still on his face but was ready with jokes and a smile that put everyone at ease. 

A firm hand cupped Ray’s cheek, yanking him back into his body and present. Michael glared at him, his eyes narrowing on Ray’s cheek. 

“Sit down, asshole. I need to sew up your face.”

Ray laughed, feeling hollow. 

“You’re such a drama queen.” Michael shoved Ray onto a stool and jabbed a needle and thread into his flesh. Ray flinched. “Fuck, Michael—Christ you’re supposed to heal, not maim— _ow_ —”

Michael fumed silently as Ray whined. It hurt, but Ray wanted it to. It kept him sharp, every tug from Michael’s nimble fingers kept him grounded. He kept thinking about Arryn’s eyes—the look of a lioness protecting her children. And she’d aimed that gaze at _him_. 

And then… the name—the _unspeakable_ name that fell from Lester’s lips.

Now that Ray didn’t fear for his life—he knew what he had heard was true. The horror and awe that shook Lester down to his bones—the same sensation passed through Ray… though diluted. It buzzed under his skin, a thunderous drum that pressed against Ray’s temples, only silencing when Ryan shoved the saloon doors open. 

::::

The town had gathered remarkably quickly. Ray was towards the back; he was the newest member after all. Lindsay was in the third row; Geoff leaned behind the bar that served as an impromptu podium.

“Order! Everyone shut the fuck up—the Sheriff needs to talk!” 

Ryan stepped up, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow over the silent crowd. He removed his hat, some strands of hair falling in front of his face. 

“Today… an intruder came to Achievement City. The exiled member of our town, Chris Demaris, led him here. The intruder’s name is Lester Cogg of the Worthington Gang, and he is an extremely dangerous man.” 

Demaris, who was surprisingly still alive after Ryan’s interrogation, flinched in the corner of the room. A brief loud ruckus went up, an angry and frightened combination. Ray kept his eyes on Ryan, wondering how truthful the Sheriff was going to be. After all, telling the truth was nice in theory, but in life where morals were grey it often led to trouble—

“I know because I was a member of the Worthington Gang for ten years.” Ryan swallowed, looking out over the now silent crowd before him. “I am—I was the Lone Wolf.” 

Ray felt like he was underwater, everything becoming muffled and slow. He could tell who the true criminals in Achievement City were and who were merely outcasts and misfits. The criminals recoiled and shuddered. Even Lindsay’s Shadows, who were usually always smiling, were shocked and white as a sheet. 

Geoff sloshed his bourbon over his glass and Lindsay’s face was unreadable but steely. 

For a brief moment, Ryan’s eyes met Ray’s and Ray couldn’t stop his shoulders from jumping. He’d heard of the Long Wolf even before he ran with the Worthington Gang. He wondered if the rumors were true, if the Long Wolf was as brutal, ruthless, and cruel as they said.

Al Worthington spoke of him with a grave awe. When Ray asked Al about those rumors Al had just laughed and smiled with his wide, crooked teeth. 

_“Don’t put any stock in those rumors, Ray.”_ He’d leaned in close, smoke puffing form his lips. _“He’s much worse, a nightmare brought to life.”_

Those baby blue eyes held his and Ray was drowning as Ryan continued after a long pause. 

“They will come for me, this I know. And I also know that the moment they step inside Achievement City will the last things they do. You may leave, if you like, but I promise, as your Sheriff I will protect this city as you’ve known me to do.”

Ryan bowed his head briefly before turning his back on the town as the entire saloon erupted into chaos. Geoff leapt to his feet, trying to calm everyone down as Ryan left. 

::::

Ray didn’t follow Ryan into the woods that night. He laid out on the couch in the living room and hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until Ryan gently shook him awake. Ray blinked blearily, groaning softly as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes. 

“M’sorry, didn’t remember falling asleep.”

Ryan’s lips twitched upwards and he looked younger, harried, but not as worn out because of it. 

“That’s how sleep tends to work, Ray.”

A silence grew between them. Ray wished it didn’t feel like it was his first day in Achievement City. He’d grown to treasure the strange comfort he found in Ryan… and he’d bet serious money that Ryan found the same comfort in him. Well, almost the same. Ray sighed, opening his mouth even though he was unsure what to say when Ryan spoke suddenly.

“I understand if you can’t look at me the same way—”

“No—no it’s not that, that’s not—” 

Ray felt like his own tongue was betraying him as he stumbled over his words. He wanted to tell the truth, that he was the Brown Man and that judging Ryan would be mighty hypocritical of him… but the words never came. Because Ryan wasn’t the Lone Wolf anymore, Ray knew that. He didn’t see a bloodthirsty animal so inhuman it hurt to look at him. He just saw the Sheriff. 

Lone Wolf wouldn’t mind the Brown Man, but the Sheriff would. 

Ray met Ryan’s blue eyes. 

“You really think they’ll come back for you?”

“Definitely.” Ryan ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.”

Ray laughed quietly; a bit hysteric because his heart was pounding so loud he was certain Ryan could hear it. 

“What’s the plan?”

In the dark, Ryan’s teeth shined as he grinned.

“Tomorrow I was going to meet with a few interested parties. You think you’ve got something to offer this town’s protection?”

Ray snorted. 

“You know I do.”

::::

Five houses were empty the next morning. Ryan didn’t acknowledge the absences but the loss was whispered all throughout town. Lindsay and Michael were the first to show up at Geoff’s sparse saloon. Ryan smiled at her and her round stomach. She spread a map out of Achievement City out over the table, her red hair falling out of her braid. 

Michael kept his hand on her back, a constant presence even when he was focused on the map. 

They waited until others filed in. Lindsay’s Shadows, Geoff, and Griffon were the only ones to show. Geoff glanced at Griffon, but she ignored him as she spread her fingers over the maps.

“Let’s start with outer walls as our best defense.”

She led the discussion from there, and after the first break Ray pulled Lindsay’s Shadows outside. 

“Be honest with me, which one of you is the best in a fight?”

Kdin, Matt, and Jeremy all looked at each other before three voices simultaneously answered, “All of us!” Ray pinched the bridge of nose. He told himself that three was better than one, but in this case he wasn’t so sure. 

“Look… I won’t leave here when I’m better suited to protect this city. But I need to make sure a friend of mine is okay. I need the three of you to go and stay with her until this whole thing blows over.” Immediately cries of protest went up and Ray had to shout to get them to simmer down. “I can make it worth your while!” 

Ray lugged one of the four bags had when he first came into Achievement City. He unlaced the strings and let Kdin, Matt, and Jeremy take a look at the wads of bills and coins inside, so much that the bag was almost bursting at the seams. Kdin’s glasses slid down his nose.

“Holy shit.”

“Another bag is waiting for the three of you when you return.”

Lindsay’s Shadows were quiet for only a moment before Matt spoke up in his deep, hushed voice. 

“It’s not that we don’t want to help you out, Ray, but we can’t leave Lindsay here.”

Ray ground his teeth together. 

“Ugh—how about this, you can ask if my friend wants to come stay here at Achievement City so I can keep an eye on her and the kids, but tell her it will be very dangerous. She’s better off staying where she is.” Ray sighed. “If she decides to stay, two of you will come back, the other will stay with her. How about that?” 

The three of them nodded and Ray wrote down the long and elaborate directions that even three idiots could understand. He loaded them up with supplies and three horses. Ryan cocked an eyebrow at Ray, and Ray mouthed, “later,” as he had the watch raise the gates.

“Ride fast. Hopefully in a few months I’ll be along to pick up one of you.”

Jeremy tipped his hat.

“Sure. We’ll pass your regards to your wife.”

Ray rolled his eyes. 

“Not my wife. Now go!” 

Ray turned his back to them, walking back to the saloon. Ryan was waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe. Ray offered Ryan a weak smile. 

“I needed to check up on a friend. I sent them to make sure she’s safe.”

Ryan nodded, his eyes leaving Ray’s as he turned to go back inside. Ray followed him, his stomach in knots as Griffon continued to speak of her plans. 

“The wood I’ve used for the walls burn slower than most, so even if they try to use fire to get through we’ll still have time.” Griffon’s index finger pointed to the center of town, right by Michael’s office. “I can build a reinforced barrier here, where the young and infirm can hide while… the gang is taken care of.” Griffon paused, her eyes on Ryan while Geoff sighed dreamily, both his hands holding up his face as he listened to Griffon. “Did you, uh, have any thoughts about that part?” 

“I do.” Ryan crossed his arms and rocked on his heels. “They’re tough but are getting older. If I was a few years younger I’d say I could handle them myself… but…”

“Well you don’t have to.” Ray spoke without thinking, all heads swiveling to look at him. Ray tilted his chin up. “I’m the best shot here. I’m up for anything.”

Lindsay made a strangled noise in her throat, her eyes bright as she looked at the floor. 

“I… can’t help.”

Ryan was at Lindsay’s side in an instant, his fingers gently running through her hair as Michael squeezed her hand. Ray turned away, feeling intrusive as Ryan spoke softly into Lindsay’s ear. Ray tuned them out, instead focused on the weight of his gun on his hip. 

::::

Time passed like an ominous shadow slowly engulfing the sun. Each day was a new reinforcement, new second measures while waiting for the oncoming storm. No one else left, but no one smiled. 

Ray gathered all the coin, silverware, buckles, and snaps in his possession, rubbing at his neck under his kerchief. He’d felt this kind of slow dread before, the same harsh burst of fear followed by a long wait for what seemed to be certain doom. 

He met Tina in a field of weeds in a tiny town down south. She’d been six, he’d been seven. He’d been scrappy, skinny, and angry at having no parents, at living with nuns who refused to tell him about his lineage. She’d looked up at him, at his tear-stained cheeks—and she’d said nothing.

No sympathy or questions… just silence that was comfortable, the most comfort Ray had ever experienced in his short life. When they’d worked their way up to talking Ray was happy to discover that Tina was the closest he’d come to having a sister. 

They grew together like saplings. It was all well until Tina turned fifteen and her parents passed away tragically. Ray will never forget—he’ll never forget the stinging rain and the dark, endless night when Tina ran, drenched in a torn nightgown. She’d been absent for weeks—and on that night she reappeared, as if she’d never left. 

Her hair stuck to her face as she banged on the convent doors until her knuckles bled. 

Ray hated how light she’d felt in his arms as he pulled her inside, locking the doors behind him. Sister Prudence had been livid, ready to pitch up a fiery fit until she saw the state of Tina’s clothes, the thin lines of blood on her stomach and knees. 

“Please.” Tina clung to Ray, her knuckles white. She held on so tight Ray had bruises for weeks. _“Don’t make me go back to my Uncle, please—”_

With Ray, Tina never had to ask because it was already hers. 

Ray felt heavy as he brought all the metal down to Griffon. He watched her melt it all down into bullets as the sun sank low—and that was when shouts came from the gates, people running toward the entrance. 

Griffon had time to furrow her brow before Ray drew his gun, running because he thought they’d had more time—at least another week until it all came crashing down around him. 

He ran through the crowd, his lungs tight—and he stopped when he sound Lindsay’s Shadows—all of them- looking flustered while drawing a carriage behind their horses. Ray paused, and he saw Ryan riding over, his posture stiff as the carriage doors opened and a slew of children spilled out. 

One after the other they gathered outside of the carriage until Tina emerged in all her robed glory. Even though she was still a touch shorter than Ray, she seemed to tower among them, her shoulders straight and habit a distinct clash to the town she was in. 

With her arms out, gathering her orphans, she was like a hawk, eyes wary until they landed on Ray.

Her age and severity fell away when she grinned. Ray was moving before he could help himself because it wasn’t Head Sister Tina he was rushing towards—but his friend, the first person to share a silence with him. 

He swept her up into a hug, probably squeezing her too hard but he didn’t care. 

“You idiot.” Her breath puffed against Ray’s cheek. “You thought sticking me with a few simple me would keep me from coming to help?” 

Ray swallowed, his vision wet and blurry. 

“I had some hope.” Ray pulled back, feeling lighter than he had in months, and he saw Ryan sliding off his horse, already taking off his hat as he approached them. Ray straightened. “Tina, this is Ryan—”

“Sheriff Haywood.”

Ryan finished for him, shaking Tina’s hand. She smiled, eyes widening briefly. 

“Head Sister Tina, at your service. Ray refuses to acknowledge my title.” 

Ryan smiled slightly.

“I’ve noticed that habit of his. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have a room ready at the Inn for you and the children.” 

Ray threw his hands in the air. 

“Oh, _sure_ , the nun gets a free pass.”

Ray expected a smirk, maybe Ryan would roll his eyes, but when he _winked_ Ray felt all the air get sucked out of his chest. 

::::

The stove’s fire burned all night, Ray melting down the last of his money. Griffon in a hammock in the corner, her breaths a soft lullaby. Mist dusted over the ground and the witching hours brought a false sense of peace. Ray lifted his head to see Tina in her nightdress, walking quietly across the street. Ray held his fingers to his lips, motioning to Griffon. Tina nodded. 

They sat in silence. 

Every heartbeat brought Ray closer to Al Worthington, every breath brought Achievement City closer to possible destruction… and it was Ray’s fault. Even with the walls reinforced, even with their great numbers… there was a reason the Worthington Gang was so feared. 

Tina’s hand slipped into his. Ray jumped, so lost in his own anxiety he’d forgotten Tina was there. 

She brought his hand to her lips and bit down hard on his knuckles, hard enough for Ray to flinch. The pain brought him back, made everything less blurry.

He formed the last bullets and once Geoff came to slip in beside Griffon, Ray walked Tina to the Inn. With a quick hug, she went inside and Ray savored the quiet walk back to Ryan’s house. 

The wind blew, so gentle it was patronizing. It was more suited for a night of romance, not a countdown to a battle. Michael had a candle lit in the window. Lindsay had been getting bigger and bigger until she had to concede that her unborn child needed her to rest. Michael doted on her as well as picked up the slack, often running between Griffon’s traps and Geoff’s storage house behind the second, all stone walls in the center of town. 

Ray hoped they remembered to sleep. 

When he opened Ryan’s door he was surprised to see that Ryan was still awake. He was stripped down to his loose pants, his shirt on the table and his face scrubbed pink. His hair was messy, falling around his shoulders. Ray froze, unable to look away and pretend that Ryan wasn’t so terribly handsome that sometimes Ray’s knees shook. 

Ryan’s hands were still dipped in the basin of water he used to wash his face. 

“Good evening, or should I say good morning?” 

Ray closed the door behind him and hoped it wasn’t too obvious how much he had to lean against it to keep from falling over.

“Either. Doesn’t matter.”

Ryan motioned for Ray to join him by the table. Ray walked over, cupping water in his hands before splashing it on his face. He grimaced when his kerchief got wet, and he hesitated before tearing it off.

Ray poured more water onto his face so he didn’t have to see Ryan’s eyes dart down to his neck, to the ugly scar that wrapped around like a brand. Sometimes he’d still wake up choking, the burn of the rope hot on his skin. 

Wiping water from his eyes, Ray finally spared a glance at Ryan. Ryan met his eyes without hesitation. Ray felt like the silence was choking him and he swallowed hard. 

“Did you know before you’re hanged they give you one last request?” Ray smirked even though they both knew it was forced. “I asked to die with my pistols on my hips. How fuckin’ stupid were they, right?” 

What Ray meant to say was, “How fuckin’ lucky am I?” The answer: A lot. More than what’s fair, surely. 

The first person Ray killed was Tina’s uncle, a man who only knew violence and not love. Ray had been too young to be careful, too naïve to deny the blood and scratches on his hands belonged to a sick man. Sick or no, murder was still murder. 

The odds hadn’t been on Ray’s side. What were the chances that a sixteen-year-old boy’s neck wouldn’t break, or that he’d undo the rope binding his hands together, shooting his captors with black spots in his vision as rope and gravity tried their hardest to kill him? And, after all that, surely Ray wouldn’t have been able to hastily yank the noose free, dropping so hard to his feet that his ankles throbbed for weeks afterwards. And even if all that managed to transpire, surely Ray couldn’t have stolen a frightened horse despite never riding one before and escape… right?

The chances were slim-to-none… but it had all happened anyways. 

Ray knew the skin was pale around his neck. He always kept it covered. The scar was always pink, sometimes a soft shade, sometimes an angry scarlet. It was ugly and it would never go away.

Gentle fingers drifted across his neck.

Ray jumped, his eyes wide. It was shockingly sensitive. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched his neck. He often avoided it himself, hating the shivers that would plague him. Shivers certainly bothered him, but a different sort entirely as Ryan’s fingers traced the edges of his scar, those baby blues never leaving Ray’s. 

Ray took in a slow breath, unable to hide how his breath shook since Ryan’s touch wouldn’t miss a thing. Ray’s tongue darted out to lick his parted lips. 

When Ryan’s eyes followed the movement, Rays heart thudded hard in his chest, but he still didn’t move. Ryan leaned in close, his thumb scraping over Ray’s scar, hard enough to make a small noise escape from the back of Ray’s throat—Ryan was so close, so close and Ray could barely breathe—

Of course, of fucking _course_ Geoff slammed the door open. Ray jumped back, thankful that Geoff was out of shape, huffing and puffing as he wiped sweat from his eyes. 

“Ryan—they’re here, Griffon spotted fires and—”

And just like that, the countdown was over. 

::::

Everyone was quiet and surprisingly efficient as they made their way to the second wall. Tina moved quickly with the children, and Ray wished they had more time than a quick glance. Griffon swung down from her quickly built crow’s nest, her blonde hair flying as her boots landed in the dirt. 

“They’re close, I spotted at least thirty men on horses due north. 

Ryan nodded curtly. He’d hastily tied up his hair and instead of bringing guns he had two huge sabers on his hips. Ryan helped the majority of the town into the second circle. Lindsay held her stomach and Ryan kissed her forehead before ushering her inside. Michael paused, nudging Ray.

“I’ll be behind the stone ready for any and all injuries. This isn’t permission to get hurt, asshole, just keep it in mind.”

Ray saluted, shoving Michael toward his wife.

“See you in a bit, Michael.” 

Michael grimaced, nodding before turning his back and darting behind the second wall. Only a few remained. Ryan, Ray, Lindsay’s Shadows, Geoff, and Griffon. The smell of smoke got stronger. Geoff sniffed, his hands shaking as he gently grabbed Griffon’s arm. 

“All right, last one in the wall. Make sure to close up behind you.” Before Ray had time to react, Griffon pulled away and Matt darted behind Geoff. “What the fuck—?”

Matt grabbed Geoff, holding a cloth over his nose and mouth. Within seconds Geoff’s eyes rolled up into his head and he went limp. Griffon took out her axes, her eyes wet as she offered Ryan a crooked smile. 

“Let’s face it, he’s lousy in a fight.” Matt and Jeremy dragged Geoff behind the walls before the gate was closed. Griffon sniffed. “I’ll do better.” 

She didn’t cry. Her vulnerability quickly smoothed over into ice. Ray couldn’t help but needle her. 

“He might not forgive you for that.”

Griffon’s answering gaze was razor sharp. 

“All I can as for is Achievement city to survive, Geoff’s forgiveness or not.” 

Ryan pulled a pouch from his pocket, opening it only for some red powder to spill out. He pressed it against his face, and when he pulled his hands away the Sheriff was gone. The cold expression stained crimson was all Lone Wolf. All eyes were on him, wide and uncertain as Ryan growled. 

“Together we’ll end the lives of all those in the Worthington Gang.” One by one, he went down the line and smeared the red dye on their faces. “Even when the red washes away, we’ll be bound in this mission for the rest of our lives. Give all your nerves and doubts to me.” His eyes met Ray’s before Ray had to close them, Ryan’s fingers dragging down his face. “Move quick, never let them get the jump on you. No mercy, no prisoners, no hesitation.” 

Ryan’s words were like ice water washing over Ray’s skin. When he opened his eyes the world was simpler. It was him or the Gang, and if Ray made it this far he wasn’t dying now. They split off in smaller groups, and even though Ray knew now wasn’t the time as smoke and fog blew into town—he grabbed the Lone Wolf’s wrist. 

“Hey.” Ray swallowed; the light blew eyes a stark contrast against the violent red. “I was—I was in Al’s Gang. I left, but I’m the Brown Man.”

Ray never looked away from Ryan’s blue eyes. He worried what Ryan was going to do—but Ray felt free now that the truth was finally out there. Ray wasn’t any better than him, if anything he could be considered worse—

“I know.” 

The Lone Wolf smirked. 

Without having to say anything Ray knew Ryan had known since he’d fired off that shot at Chris. No one in the world could have made that shot unless they were a legend… and Ray _was_ a legend. The Brown Man never missed, the Brown Man walked from shadow to shadow, the Brown Man would never tremble, even if he was bathed in ice water he wouldn’t so much as twitch. 

The Brown Man would live forever.

Ray would not. 

He tugged off his kerchief, exposing his scarred neck. He could hear them coming through the smoke. The Lone Wolf’s hand squeezed Ray’s shoulder. 

“Are you ready?”

Ray grinned, twisting against the red dye. 

You only live once. Let’s do it man—”

Ray was cut off because he was being yanked forward so hard he lost his balance. Ray’s eyes widened as Ryan’s lips crashed against his. To call it a kiss wouldn’t be fair to all other kisses given in the world. No, it was all tongue and teeth, more like an animal going for a kill than an expression of affection.

Ray bit back. Ray licked back. Ryan’s responding growl seemed to make the ground shake. He tore himself away, his final bite to Ray’s lower lip drawing blood. Ray wiped his mouth and drew his pistols. He charged into the smoke, his hands and heart steady. It was no or never.

It was time to wipe his slate clean. 

::::

Tina hugged the children close to her chest; shuddering at the sounds of gunshots and wet, shrill screams. The children covered their ears even though it would never fully block out the sound. Tina squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if it was even possible to keep innocence without clumsily shattering it. 

Often she’d reflect on her younger days with an almost hypnotized reverie. 

Ray had always been good with his hands. While Tina was clumsy, Ray was graceful. Where Tina was proper, Ray was mischievous. 

Their field of weeds and flowers seemed so far away, like a deep and distant dream that lingered in her subconscious. Those days had been so long and full of laughter. Even the colors seemed brighter.

Tina remembered spending her afternoons lying in the grass, the trees whispering leaves lulling her into a tranquil state. Ray would be beside her, his arms splayed out like a starfish.

Had he felt the same peace then? Tina often wondered as time went on and as Ray’s life continued on the way it had. She often looked back at the past with a smile.

Did Ray? Or… had he not been satisfied even then? 

“Whuh—what’s happening?” The man with the whimsical moustache, Ray had introduced him as Geoff, woke from his induced unconsciousness. Geoff bolted up, swaying on his feet. “What the hell—those fuck—” His eyes swiveled to Tina and the children, “Those—those _jerks_ knocked me out!”

“Sit down before you keel over.” Michael, the gruff doctor, shoved Geoff down so hard Tina winced sympathetically. “Our best fighters are out there. And from the sound of it, they’re winning.”

Tina shivered. She hoped they were, and that it would be over soon. Lindsay, the doctor’s wife, sat next to Tina, smiling at her through tight lips. 

“How are you holding up?”

Tina was a bit startled. Not a lot of folks spoke to her, intimidated by her title and dress. She held a child closer to her. 

“As well as I can be?” Tina paused, eyeing Lindsay’s pregnant form. “You?”

“Same.” Lindsay’s eyes were glassy, her gaze on the stone protecting them. “I just… I want them all back safe.” She closed her eyes. “I just wish I could be out there with them.” 

Ray had written about Lindsay. At first he believed the Sheriff was madly in love with her… yet a few months later he’d corrected himself and said he’d been mistaken, that their affections were platonic. Deep and strong, but platonic. Tina remained silent because she wasn’t sure if anything she could offer would be a comfort. 

A sudden gasp made Tina flinch. Lindsay’s eyes flashed open and she looked down, her hands in her skirts. A wet stain grew between Lindsay’s legs and her voice wavered as she shouted. 

“Michael!”

There was a ripple of panic because _how did they expect to deliver a baby in the middle of this madness?_ Tina was on her feet; stripping off her headdress and pushing up her sleeves, making Lindsay lie down as Michael swore, kissing her quickly before smiling wide at her. 

“Ain’t life a fucking bitch, Lindsay?”

Lindsay nodded, able to quickly grin back before gasping in pain, her contractions starting. She was covered in a cold sweat, her knuckles white as she squeezed her husband’s hand.

“Don’t—don’t let him hear me scream.” Lindsay choked on a cry. “Please, Michael, he needs to focus.” 

“You got it, sweetheart.” Michael tore his shirtsleeve and balled up the cloth in his fist. He kissed Lindsay again, longer, his thumb brushing her cheek before he pulled back. She opened her mouth and he gently pressed the cloth against her teeth. “This will muffle it, okay? Now breathe like we practiced.”

Lindsay nodded and Tina’s eyes met Michael’s. 

“What can I get for you, Doctor Jones?” 

“How water and towels.”

Tina immediately got to her feet, pushing past the petrified Geoff. As Tina ran and returned to Michael’s side, she tried to see Achievement City through Ray’s eyes. To him it was a home. To Tina… it was a wild gathering of wilder people. Mysterious people who’d have an easygoing smile as long as nothing was asked of their past. But they seemed to care about each other… and maybe that was enough for Ray.

Geoff took the orphans away as Tina and Michael worked their way through Lindsay’s agony. Tina didn’t realize she’d been praying out loud until she swallowed, her throat burning. 

With one final push, with one final muffled scream that Tina wasn’t sure was subdued _enough_ —a tiny baby boy’s cried. Tina fell back, her entire body shaking as Michael took over and cut the cord. He used his own jacket as a blanket for Lindsay, his hands covered in blood. He had the brightest smile on his face and Lindsay returned it effortlessly. 

“I love you.”

Michael held their child, peppering Lindsay’s face with kisses as she held their son, struck silent by the newborn’s weight in her arms. Tina couldn’t stop trembling, her hands and arms stained with dried blood. She leaned her head back, blowing her hair out of her face. 

Tina’s eyes flew open right when a ripple went through the crowd, eyes leaving Lindsay. Tina stood on shaking legs, her eyes aimed at the wall. 

The screams were gone. 

Only silence remained. 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took so long, thank you so much for your patience. I hope you all like the update, life has been very busy, so I tried to make this the best it could be. Let me know your thoughts, all of them are welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm importing my works from tumblr here, so just to have multiple places to find them. I hope y'all enjoy this AU, let me know what you think!


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